Kyminn's Journey
by Raelynn Daria Mayne
Summary: Finally confirmed in his Gifts and training, Kyminn has accepted a position with the Healer's Circle. He has found the road he is meant to be on, but now Valdemar sits on the brink of war and Kyminn is about to be drawn into it. He has set his feet on a perilous journey. (War/injury/fighting/death).
1. Chapter 1

_A/N – As always, this world belongs to Mercedes Lackey. I thank her for allowing us to play in it._

Chapter 1

The autumn sky was a deep, blue bowl, its warm sun soaking through his soft linen shirt. Kyminn drew in a deep breath, savouring the scent of ripe hay and frost-nipped poplar. Beneath the saddle, the grey gelding twitched an ear questioningly, the simple mind expressing a wistful plaint that there was food, water and other horses up ahead. When would the rider give the signal to join them?

Kyminn chuckled and gave Max a reassuring slap on the neck. "Soon", he told the horse. "I just need a moment."

A moment. The last fortnight had been made up of moments, yet he was still strangely reluctant to take this next step. Saying goodbye to his teammates had been wrenching, for all it had been expected. Herald Randen and his mentee Allek had been the first to depart, the Companions Derris and Jareth bearing them off at speeds no horse could dream of matching. Their orders to return to the capital with "all possible speed" had made the farewells brief.

Kyminn and Nikki had shared the road for a few days longer, the cavalry captain having been given charge of the group's team and wagon. While she would have preferred to be in the saddle of her immense warhorse Hugo, the beast was quite content to amble along at the wagon's pace, enjoying a respite from his labours.

That had been ten days ago, Kyminn taking the eastern fork towards Warford and its army training camp while Captain Ashkevron turned west, towards the Jaysong hills and the cavalry unit stationed there.

Kyminn shifted his weight in the saddle, a silent signal to the gelding to start forward again. The road was well tended, bending gently towards a wide plain. At one end, where a vigorous river emerged from the low hills, a series of low-slung stone buildings brooded over the roadway, a grey hawk guarding her nest.

Neatly fenced pastures, paddocks and yards spilled over around the buildings, horses and men moving to their own, unheard rhythm. Kyminn found himself conscious of the fact that he had straightened in his saddle. Unaccountably nervous, he resisted the urge to tug at his shirt or straighten his shaggy hair.

"Your business, sir?" The guardsman was polite and well turned out. Judging from the wary looks he was casting at Kyminn and his beasts, the fellow was probably a relatively new recruit, unsure of what to do with an armed, mounted stranger at his gate.

"Healer Kyminn Danner. I've been posted here as a Healer and trainer." The smile was friendly and open. "To be honest, to one told me who, exactly, I was to report to."

"Please dismount and wait here sir. Someone will be with you shortly." _That_ at least, was something well within the youngster's experience – when in doubt, kick the problem upstairs. A whispered consultation with someone in the gatehouse, and a blue form trotted away into the clump of buildings.

Kyminn agreeably dismounted, one hand loosely holding the gelding's reins. The second horse, a bay gelding patiently toting Kyminn's gear, seemed quite happy to wait, hipshot and dozing in the afternoon sun. A furry head lifted from where it had been curled up on the packs and a blue-grey dog leapt lightly down, tail wagging in greeting.

The guardsman's incipient smile of welcome changed to a yelp of surprise and a clawing at his belt knife when two scarred, charcoal mastiffs emerged from the verge and joined the collie.

"Stop!" Kyminn lurched forward, one hand raised futilely at the sentry, the other waving at the dogs.

The dogs, trained, conditioned, and with instructions reinforced by Mindspeech, froze instantly, dropping to their bellies in a "Down! Stay!" posture.

The sentry was slower to react, only curtailing his own alarm after he realized the dogs were not actually threatening him. He still kept one cautious hand on his belt knife though, and didn't take his eyes off the massive dogs.

The tableau was broken when the second sentry returned, this time with a corporal in tow. That worthy took in the scene: sentry, stranger, horses, dogs. A small furrow appeared between his eyes, but the corporal's voice remained professional, if a trifle strained.

"Good afternoon sir. I understand you have orders that post you here?" A tiny gesture, and the sentry gratefully withdrew to the gate house.

Kyminn simply nodded politely and produced the necessary documents. The corporal's review was quick, but thorough.

"Thank you," he said, handing the papers back to Kyminn. "I'll take you to the post commander." The corporal eyed the dogs. "The dogs will have to remain out here. I'm not sure if anyone has explained this to you, but, generally speaking, people don't bring pets with them when they come here."

An eyebrow arched upward, slowly. Finally, Kyminn said only, "I'm afraid that won't be possible. They are not pets, nor are they exactly mine. I suggest that I explain the situation to the commander and let him or her decide how to proceed."

Corporals don't become corporals by being stupid. Recognizing immediately that tangling with a Healer who may or may not be considered to outrank him – or getting between the same and the commander - was not a winnable situation, he too kicked the problem upstairs. After all, the commandant was perfectly capable of ripping the Healer a new orifice if such an action was so required. The corporal simply nodded and said, "As you say, sir. However, they will have to be under control. They can't run around loose inside."

That pronouncement caused still more delays. Kyminn hadn't used leads on the dogs since Lord Balvel had handed them over the spring before. In point of fact, Kyminn had quite forgotten about the leashes, having left them in the wagon. One of the sentries was sent to procure some leather strapping, finally returning with some spare reins that could be buckled around the dog's collars. The fact that the dogs hadn't made so much as a twitch since Kyminn had told them to lie down and stay seemed to be lost on the soldiers. Possibly, the dogs were better drilled than some of the recruits. Kyminn wisely decided not to voice this thought.

Eventually, dogs appropriately accoutered and Kyminn now considered presentable, the cavalcade was admitted to the fort. Kyminn acquiesced silently when two guardsmen appeared to take the horses in from him. He wasn't going to leave them in someone else's care without checking on them, but that part could wait. For now.

The corporal led Kyminn to a building bearing a discreet sign proclaiming "Headquarters – Office of the Commandant." The orderly within looked like he wanted to protest the presence of several large dogs in his pin-neat office, but refrained. His face, when Kyminn instructed the animals to "Stay" in the outer office, was a study in silent frustration.

Base commander and Healer eyed each other, assessing, measuring. On one side of the desk sat a solid, chunky man. He looked like he might have been carved out of the same native stone as the buildings themselves. Close-cropped salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper, framed a weathered face, deep set blue eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts.

Those same blue eyes, trained to quickly assess the mettle of the young men and woman in his charge, flicked thoughtfully over the newcomer. Average height and build, green eyes quiet under a thatch of dirty blonde hair. Reasonably fit with signs of sword calluses on his palms. Good. Temperament…ah…that was key, now wasn't it? This calm confidence – was it justified or was it young-cockerel cockiness? That would make a difference, and only time would tell which was which.

"You have orders?" The commandant held out his hand, his words abrupt.

"Yes sir." Kyminn surrendered the documents yet again. He wanted to sit down, but had not been invited to do so. Something told him that this man would consider it presumptuous.

This time, the documents were reviewed carefully, with some sections being read a second or third time. Finally, the commandant looked up.

"So." A pause. "Close the door and sit down. This is going to take a while."

The eyebrow arched up again, but Kyminn silently complied. The orderly looked even less happy to have the dogs on _his_ side of the door while their master was on the other.

"I am Major Silas, the commander of this base." One thick finger tapped the letter. "From my perspective, this letter has so many holes in it that I very nearly doubt that you are even the person so named."

Kyminn straightened in alarm, wondering how on earth he was to suddenly prove his bona-fides to this man, this far from Haven or anyone who could vouch for him. The major shook his head, forestalling Kyminn's protest.

"I said 'very nearly'. I say that because I can't picture even the most idiotic imposter being stupid enough to forge the signature of Dean of Healer's, much less that of the King's Own. If you're a spy," the major carefully didn't notice Kyminn's sudden flinch, "you're a particularly poor one."

Kyminn wanted to point out that, as a matter of fact, he'd been a rather good spy, in one sense of the word, but again took advantage of a chance to keep his mouth shut.

"So I'm going to start from the beginning. You _are_ a trained Healer, yes?"

 _That_ was a question Kyminn was quite happy to answer. "Yes sir. I received most of my training from my grandmother – a Haven trained healer, and my mother. I later enrolled in the Collegium and graduated into my Greens." Kyminn pulled a thong from around his neck and passed it to the major. The thong was looped through a metal disk. One side was enameled in healer green, the other side bore the sigil of the Healer's College. While such items were easy enough to forge, the penalties for doing so were severe, especially since one's Gift or skills at healing were easy enough to verify.

The major examined it carefully and handed it back with a nod. "Very well. I should ask, do you have any other Gifts aside from Healing?"

A stillness settled over Kyminn. This was a moment he'd always avoided – publicly presenting himself as a Healer while not having an actual Healing gift. Well, not of the expected sort anyway. "Yes and no, major. My Gifts include Animal Healing, Animal Mindspeech, Animal Empathy and a very specific kind of Animal Foresight." He paused and said carefully, "I'd ask you to note that actual Healing of people is _not_ one of the Gifts I mentioned."

A brief narrowing of the pale blue eyes, then, astonishingly, a small shrug. "Most of our troops have never seen an actual Healer. They are actually far more familiar with, and comfortable with, herb healing and non-mystical techniques." The last was dry. "There are two other Healers here already, both with the Healing gift. Normally, we wouldn't have so many of your sort here, but as a training command, we are much larger than the usual Guard post. Also, recruits manage to hurt themselves in more ways you can possibly imagine. Expect to be busy."

A tension slid out of Kyminn, his muscles unknotting in relief. He simply nodded, gratefully.

The finger tapped the letter again. "Now, about this training. Suppose you explain it to me?"

Briefly, Kyminn explained to the major what he had being doing for the past several moons. How he and "some others, including a cavalry captain" had been buying horses for the Guard and using the captain's experience and his particular Gifts to expedite the training of the beasts. If Kyminn carefully avoided mentioning that the other two members of the group had been a pair of Heralds, and that the group had been delivering quite a bit more than trained horses to the Guard, well, the major didn't need to know that. The major, for his part, declined to ask why, exactly, this young Healer had come with orders signed by the King's Own, or how it came to be that said Healer 'just happened' to be traveling about with a cavalry captain and 'some others'. There was a lot to be said for discretion.

Finally, the major sat back in his chair. "I believe I understand. I'll be honest, we weren't aware that you were coming. When I heard there was an armed Healer and his pack of attack dogs at my gate, claiming to be here to train my troops…I was disinclined to welcome you."

"And now sir?" Kyminn cocked his head, curious.

"I'm reserving judgement. I will say this though; I can see how your skills will be an asset to our training. We don't accept recruits who can't ride, but getting them _and_ their mounts trained up has its own challenges. I can see how you can help smooth that process out." He paused and glanced at the door. "I do have one question though. What _were_ you planning on doing with those dogs? Or is that someone else's business?"

Kyminn twisted his face in chagrin. "Strictly speaking, they aren't my dogs. They were…loaned to us…for the summer. When…the others…returned to the capital, they weren't able to take the dogs. And when Captain Ashkevron was recalled to duty, it's not like she could take them with her." A wry shrug. "As I'm the only civilian of the lot, I sort of ended up with them. And since they belong to either the crown or their original owner, well, I can't sell them off or abandon them. So I guess I'll be taking care of them for the time being. I will, however, try to get the matter cleared up."

"See that you do. I hold you completely responsible for their care and behavior, is that understood? If they bite someone, or chase the horses or anything like that, you're the first person I'm going to string up, clear?"

Kyminn nodded. "Yes sir. They won't be a problem sir."

"Good. See my orderly, Corporal Lyell on your way out. He'll have your quarters assignment. Ask him to point out the kitchen, you can see the cook's quartermaster to arrange food for those beasts of yours. Tomorrow morning, right after breakfast, report to Captain Rath. He'll work you into the training schedule. Once that's set, get yourself onto the duty roster with the other Healers. Like I said, you're going to be busy." The major gave a nod of dismissal.

"Yes sir." Moments later, Kyminn found himself in the outer office, staring bemusedly at the pointedly closed door to the major's office. The orderly was glaring balefully at Kyminn, looking pointedly from the dogs to Kyminn and back again.

"Aaaand…welcome to Warford, Kyminn," the healer muttered to himself. This was going to be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Corporal Lyell didn't seem to be the talkative sort. He stiffly gestured Kyminn to precede him out the door, waiting until the last dog had departed before exiting himself. The orderly set off immediately, apparently under the assumption that Kyminn would automatically follow.

They wended their way through the various buildings and Kyminn began to get a general sense of the camp layout. The entire facility was much larger than he'd initially surmised. Several large stables were self-explanatory, as were the numerous hay shelters lined up neatly behind them. Observing the trickle of blue-clad figures moving between several identical, two-story buildings, Kyminn deduced those to be the barracks.

Various other structures such as storehouses were equally obvious, other buildings much less so. To Kyminn's surprise, their destination was not, in fact, the kitchen, but rather a small building adjacent to a row of storehouses. Corporal Lyell didn't bother to knock, nor did he bother to offer Kyminn the door. The Healer sighed, giving the dogs a silent instruction to remain outside, and let himself into the cramped outer office.

"Well, Lyell, what do you have for me this time?" The voice was a laconic drawl.

"This is Healer Danner. He has some special stores requirements." One could hear the sniff of disapproval in the orderly's tone.

"This is the fellow with the pack of wolves?" Kyminn couldn't see the speaker, but he liked the dry humour in the voice.

"Close enough." The orderly was frosty. He stepped into the room just enough to let Kyminn move forward.

"I see. Yes, I can see how that would be a problem for you." The tone was bland and perfectly correct, but the twinkle in the speaker's eye told Kyminn the fellow was thoroughly enjoying baiting the punctilious orderly.

The stiffening of Corporal Lyell's spine told Kyminn that the orderly was perfectly aware he was being goaded, but didn't want to give in to the teasing. Instead, a sly smile spread across his face. "Since you seem to know all about him then, I'll let you take care of him. He has two horses in stable three, is rooming in room number two at Healers and, as I mentioned, has those special stores requirements. Since these sorts of things are much more in your job description than mine, I'll get back to the major." His condescending tone made it clear that he felt his own duties were vastly more important than the other's.

"Yes, I'm sure the major needs you. You can leave this to me," a shooing motion sent Lyell on his way.

"Now that _that's_ done, welcome to Warford, Healer. I'm Corporal Krahn, clerk to the Quartermaster, Master-Sergeant Williams." He held out a hand to Kyminn. Kyminn took it, noting that the hand was maimed, two fingers and part of the palm being missing.

Krahn gestured for Kyminn to be seated, noticing Kyminn's eyes rest on the hand. "Important lesson. Never attempt to block a sword swing with your hand." The eyes twinkled again. "Since the alternative was stopping it with my head, I can live with the result."

Kyminn nodded in understanding. "I think _live with_ the result is the operative word here."

"Exactly." Corporal Krahn was in his late twenties, wheat blond hair over a face crinkled with laugh lines. "Damn Karsite raiders. We got the buggers though. They won't be burning any more villages." He shook his head. "Anyway, as I said, welcome to Warford."

"Thank you," Kyminn smiled. "I have to ask – is this camp populated entirely by corporals? And are they all like Lyell there or are they more like you?"

Krahn laughed. "Don't you know? Armies run on sergeants, and sergeants run on corporals. The officers decide what the mission is, the sergeants decide what the tasks are, and the corporals get the tasks done. The troopers provide the labour, we provide the supervision."

"I see." Kyminn decided he liked this fellow. "And Lyell?"

"Yes, well, Lyell is a special case." A snort. "Don't get me wrong, he's actually not that terrible a fellow once you get to know him. If he ever gets over his prissiness he'll make a decent sergeant one day. In the meantime, he's exactly the kind of orderly that the Major needs. Major Silas is an old pro at taking prissy young corporals and whipping them into excellent non-coms."

"I don't have any real military experience, but I have a feeling that the Major has his work cut out for him," Kyminn murmured.

"Yes and no. Lyell is incredibly organized and very good at anticipating the Major's requirements. He's also keenly aware of the need to maintain appearances."

"I'm…surprised," Kyminn admitted. "The major didn't strike me as the sort of person to be that self-inflated."

"He's not," Krahn said easily. "Lyell just hasn't quite got the hang of that part yet. What Lyell _does_ realize is that when the major appears organized, ship-shape and on top of matters, it reinforces the impression that their leader is in control of the situation. Everyone knows that a major is perfectly capable of maintaining his own uniform and gear. He doesn't have to do those things to prove it. So he has an orderly to, well, keep his environment _orderly_ while the major himself focuses on the big picture stuff." The corporal shrugged.

"Admittedly," the soldier pointed out, "sometimes a good orderly can mask the failings of a poor leader. Usually though, the situation self-corrects eventually and that leader gets shunted off somewhere harmless or not promoted past their competence. It's not perfect, sometimes some real doozies sneak through, but the system more or less works."

"I think I see. So…if it's not rude, how come you're not an orderly?"

"Because I'm rather more the _dis_ orderly sort," Krahn grinned. "I'd much rather sit down to a meal of beer and biscuits than wonder which fork I'm supposed to use." He sat up and slapped his hands on the desk. "So, Healer Danner, about your special stores requirements…?"

"Please, it's Kyminn," the healer demurred.

"And I'm Bryce. So, Kyminn, I hear you have wolves?"

Kyminn laughed. "Not wolves. Two mastiffs and a collie. I left them outside, the mastiffs are a trifle large."

"Can I meet them?" Bryce came around the edge of the desk.

"I would be happy to introduce you!"

Outside, Corporal Krahn waited politely, offering the back of his hand only after Kyminn gave the dogs the appropriate signal. After the first cautious sniffs, the tails began to wag and the soldier seemed quite happy to scratch ears and bellies. Bryce ran his hands gently over the scars on the mastiff's bodies, his face questioning.

"Karsite raiders," was all Kyminn said. Krahn simply nodded in understanding.

At Bryce's gesture towards the stables, the two men headed off, the dogs following happily. As they walked, the two discussed the dog's needs, finally settling on a mix of meat scraps, a scoop of leftover oatmeal and a small measure of vegetables for each meal.

"I don't think the big dogs are going to be that active, so I'd rather not give them a strictly meat diet," Kyminn confessed.

"That won't be a problem. There's always trimmings and what not, and there's _always_ oat porridge. Anything that doesn't get eaten for breakfast gets mixed into cookies, oaten travel bread or biscuits. If _those_ get left over, they get dried and used for crumbs and crumbles. After about the third round through the kitchen, the scraps get sent to the chickens. We eat a _lot_ of oat porridge." This last was an exaggerated sigh. "Sometimes, we eat so many oats I begin to think they can't tell the difference between us and our horses!"

As they made their way to the stables, Bryce took the opportunity to point out various buildings. Kyminn's guess as to which buildings were the barracks had been correct, with the Corporal pointing out that a section of each barracks was set aside for the female personnel. "Rank aside, we don't discriminate, and in field conditions, yes, sometimes there are mixed quarters. However, there are some situations where each sex prefers privacy, so we observe that when we're in quarters. It's always interesting when the recruits go on their first field exercise and some recruit realizes that his female tent-mate has a moon-thing happening." He rolled his eyes. "You'd think that at least some of them had sisters, but some of the misinformation these fellows arrive with is amazing!" He clapped his hand on Kyminn's shoulder. "Fortunately, that sort of thing is your department, not mine."

"What?!" Kyminn stopped, startled.

Bryce's expression was wicked. "Oh yes, my friend. It's all part of basic recruit training. Not just personal hygiene, but the full talk on 'this is where babies come from and this is how you prevent them.' Some of the recruits come from strict religious upbringings, others are chock full of misinformation from their friends and older brothers. And since we have no way of knowing which is which, they all get the same training and you Healer fellows get to sort them all out."

"Yay," Kyminn muttered, pushing open the door of a stable with a large 3 painted prominently above the door.

The large, airy stable was old, but very well maintained, the walls solidly chinked against the winter wind. Large windows, covered in a double thickness of oiled cloth, admitted the golden light while keeping out the insects. Down at the far end, Max and Vik thrust their heads over their stall doors, whickering a greeting.

Bryce gave a low whistle of appreciation, suddenly every inch the cavalry trooper. Glancing at Kyminn for permission, he slipped into the stall, running his hands admiringly over the grey gelding. "Where did you find this fellow? He's magnificent!"

Kyminn rested a hand gently on Max's muzzle, silently conferring with the beast. The warm glow of contentment at a full belly and detailed grooming reassured the Healer. "Both of these fellows had been set aside for the guard. I was told I could pick a mount and remount, and this is what I picked."

An admiring shake of the head. "You certainly lucked out!"

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Kyminn admitted. "I got some good advice." He forbore to mention that the advice had come from Herald Keren.

Corporal Krahn left the stall, carefully latching the door behind him. Kyminn noted with approval that the corporal's second, verifying tug on the latch was as automatic as breathing. "You _make_ luck like that. Clearly you knew which advice to listen too!"

Bryce waited until Kyminn had reassured himself that both horses had been properly attended. The corporal nudged a pile of gear stacked neatly by the stalls. "This is yours?"

Kyminn nodded. "It is. I guess it made sense for them to leave all my stuff together since they didn't know where I was going to be staying." He swung one of the packs over his shoulder, grateful that Bryce did the same for the other.

"You're quartered at Healer's." Krahn led the way out of the stables and back towards the main part of the camp. "It just makes more sense to keep everything together. When things happen, we don't want the Healers at one end of the camp and their gear at the other."

The Healer's structure was another two-story building, this one square and blocky. Krahn gestured to the front entrance. "That leads to the waiting room. Morning sick call is just before breakfast, so the Healers eat later. Most of it is minor things – blisters, rashes, coughs – that sort of thing. The more significant injuries are much less predictable." One hand sketched an outline. "There are two small treatment rooms just off the waiting room. A hall runs the length of the building, with sickrooms at one end and storage rooms at the other. You'll see it all tomorrow I expect."

Krahn led the healer around to one end of the building, to a side entrance. "In here."

 _Here_ was a corridor, running the length of the building. A set of stairs rose to one side, a door across from them on the other. Kyminn could see a matching door at the far end. Krahn gestured again. "This is the storage end; the patient rooms are down by that far door. That hall to the left leads back to the entrance and the lavatory is across from it."

"What's upstairs?" Kyminn glanced upwards.

"More storage and the other Healer's quarters." Bryce lifted a key off of a hook by the door and handed it to Kyminn.

Kyminn unlocked the door and edged into his new home. Like his quarters in Haven, it was well used but clean and in good condition. This room was surprisingly large, a situation explained by the fact that the room contained two bunks, tables, and dressers.

"This is the only double room. No one wanted it because no one wanted to be assigned a roommate. The other Healers, Carrell and Mennis, have rooms upstairs. Lyell probably though he was sticking you with the worst room, but if we get a couple of spare blankets and cover that second bed, you'll have a place for the dogs." He coughed with laughter. "I cannot imagine us ever getting enough trained Healers that we will have someone willing to share this room with you _and_ the dogs. If it ever gets to that point, well, I expect we'll be beyond caring about such things."

Kyminn thought about the circumstances that had brought him to Warford. By next summer, he expected such things to not matter at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Kyminn was used to rising early and he counted himself lucky that he was already up and dressed when the horns sounded. The brassy notes were quite loud enough to rouse the deepest sleeper, and judging by the flood of blue bodies, extremely effective. Clearly, there would be no oversleeping in Warford!

Curious, he slipped outside to observe. The dogs followed, glad of a chance to stretch their legs and take care of their own morning hygiene. Kyminn made a note to track down a shovel. He was quite sure Major Silas would not be happy with odiferous evidence of dog scattered on the camp's yards and walkways.

The flood of guardsmen slowed to a trickle and then stopped. Streams resolved quickly into neat rows and blocks. Some of the units formed up far more smoothly than others, falling into place with well-practiced speed. On the far side of the camp, a much smaller group formed up. While this group moved with seemly haste, their movements lacked the galloping alarm of the other troops. Clearly, more than one sort of group was training here.

The morning was crisp and cool, but the troops had no opportunity to shiver. Nearly as soon as the last trooper had braced to attention, leather-lunged sergeants began a vigorous round of calisthenics. Glad that he wasn't required to join the fun, Kyminn slipped off to the closest stable. He managed to find a wheelbarrow and the tools necessary to clean up all evidence of the dogs' presence. When he finished putting everything back where he'd found it, the troops were still jogging around the perimeter of the base.

Kyminn mulled over his next step. Should he go ahead and offer his assistance to the other Healers? Based on what Krahn had said last night, they would shortly receive an influx of patients. His help might be appreciated.

On the other hand, making introductions and trying to insert him into the workflow during the morning rush might be the _opposite_ of helpful. It would be unfortunate if their first impression of him was "more trouble than he's worth." Would they be glad of his help? Put off by trying to work him in? Angry if he _didn't_ help?

In the end, it wasn't "What will the other Healers think" that decided him. This was, after all, an army camp. As a civilian, Kyminn wasn't in the army chain of command. He was, however, subject to the leadership of the base commandant. And Major Silas's instructions had been to report to Captain Rath, and _then_ the Healers. So, breakfast first, then the Captain.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Fed, curious, and a little excited, Kyminn arrived at the Captain's office a prompt ten minutes before the appointed time. No one had had to explain to him that early was acceptable, lateness never.

His excitement dimmed a bit as the time he was to report came and went. And went. Judging by the number of people coming and going, the training officers were a busy bunch. The clerk had announced Kyminn initially, and then politely ignored him from thenceforth.

As the time candle burned down, Kyminn wondered what message, if any, he was supposed to be gleaning from the wait. Was the Captain trying to demonstrate his own importance? Was the captain simply forgetful? Maybe he was unsure of what to do with Kyminn – the Major had said that Kyminn was an unexpected arrival. Perhaps all the comings and goings were discussions as to how to best use this unexpected asset? Maybe it was an intentional snub, or a test of Kyminn's mettle to goad a reaction. How best to respond if that were the case? A cool " _oh, I never really noticed"?_ Or more a firm _"_ _Was this the best use of my time?"_ He weighed possibilities, trying to decide the best course.

Finally, nearly two full candlemarks after he had arrived, the clerk called him into the Captain's office. Kyminn searched the clerk's expression for any kind of hint at what to expect, but found only noncommittal professionalism. No help there.

One thing became clear the moment that Kyminn entered the office. Captain Rath was not a happy man and he was, most certainly, not happy to see Kyminn. Deep set green eyes drew in under the beetled brow and Kyminn almost expected the Captain to start growling.

Baffled at what he had done to earn this man's enmity, Kyminn made a sudden decision. Since it was abundantly clear that anything Kyminn did was going to be wrong, Kyminn chose to draw his own line in the sand. In a blatant breach of military protocol, Kyminn took a seat. And waited.

This time, there really was a growl, albeit a muted one. Kyminn mentally totted up a point. "Healer Kyminn Danner, assigned here to assist your training." A soft lob, a chance for the Captain to step back and move the conversation onto more neutral ground.

"And possibly the most useless member of this camp, aside from those damn dogs." A flat snarl.

Oof. This fellow had no give in him at all. Kyminn changed tracks, letting some iron leak into his voice. "I am a fully trained Healer. In addition, I have other skills that you can make use of." Firm, but still giving the Captain an opening to compromise.

A hand brushed some papers on the desk. Kyminn recognized his own orders. He wondered if Captain Rath had noted the signatures on those same letters. "An ungifted Healer," the counter acknowledged Kyminn's training and dismissed it in the same breath. "I am sure your training will serve for the many minor injuries we experience here." Not compromise, condescension.

Anger surged through Kyminn at the sheer disdain implied in the words. He struggled to keep it out of his expression, realizing he'd failed when he saw the flicker of smug triumph in the captain's eyes. Point tied.

"The Healer's Circle has deemed my skills acceptable," it was frosty, with the implied, "too bad you can't figure that out" left unsaid.

"As for these other alleged skills of yours…" a flick at the documents. "I'm not sure why the Major thought you'd be useful to me. Animal Empathy? You're not going to march around my training field, making sure the horses feel good about what they're supposed to do." A barb launched. Point?

"I wouldn't dream of it. I can, however, tell you if they are experiencing a threat that you can't see or hear yet. I can keep them calm – or even silent – at need." Level, professional. Kyminn pushed the anger away. No score.

A dismissive wave. "The horses are here to be trained by their riders. The troopers need to know how to interpret their beast's alarms, or how to keep the animal quiet. They won't benefit from you doing it for them." The captain leaned forward, his body tense and angry. "You are a back-country Healer. You may have been trained in the capital, but you know next to nothing about the army. Or the cavalry. Or warfare." A hand stabbed towards the rest of the camp. "Out there, I have young officers who have been on horseback since before they could walk. I've got hill scouts that know more about tracking than you can ever imagine learning. I've been training horses and men since your Papa was a lad, and there is nothing – NOTHING – you can teach me about training horses and men."

Ah. The hostility was suddenly made clear. Unfortunately, the clarity didn't improve the situation. "Captain, with all due respect, I have absolutely no intention of telling your how to do your job. I'm the first to admit that I don't know how to do it. I wouldn't even know how to begin making a suggestion. I am simply here as another string for your bow. Use me as you will. Wouldn't it make your job easier if you had someone like me who can _tell_ the horses what they are supposed to be doing? Wouldn't that make training faster?" Kyminn injected as much reasonableness into his tone as he could.

"The _last_ thing I want," the soldier grated, "is an inexperienced, untrained civilian messing about with my horses, telling them what to do. Frankly, I don't want you and I sure as hell resent the fact that the Heraldic circle has decided I have to take you." (So, he _had_ noticed the signatures. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing after all.) The captain's tone was ice and iron. "You will do exactly what I say, when I say. You are not to Mindspeak any beast in training without my express permission. You will perform your Healing and Animal Healing duties to the best of your ability at all times. Unless it concerns the treatment of an animal in your care, you will not speak to any of the trainees about their horses. I don't want them getting confused by your suggestions. In fact, you would do well to avoid contact with the trainees at all times, just to avoid any misunderstandings. Is that clear?"

"Yes Captain." Kyminn wanted to scream in frustration. He'd just spent several months in the company of an experienced cavalry officer, demonstrating the effectiveness of his Gifts. Instead, he throttled his anger, wondering how he was going to make this situation work.

"Oh, and one last thing. The dogs." An almost audible sniff of disapproval. "Where are they?"

"They are currently in Stable 3, along with my personal," Kyminn put a warning emphasis on the word, "horses. The dogs are penned in the box stalls with the horses. The animals are all used to each other and it keeps the dogs confined while I'm busy here. The stable hands have been told, and the dogs won't give them any trouble."

"See that they don't. One step out of line and the dogs are done. One dog could cause injury to dozens of horses if it sets them off. I'm not going to risk months and years of training and development of a herd of warhorses because of one dog." Clearly, if the captain had his way, the dogs would be gone already.

"I understand." Kyminn refrained from mentioning that he had, in fact, been in contact with both dogs _and_ horses several times already that morning. He was fully aware of where they were and what they were doing. Animal Mindspeech and all.

"Tomorrow morning, ninth hour. The training paddock to the east of stable five. You will attend and you will observe. Silently. Dismissed."

Kyminn didn't bother to respond as he let himself out. Hopefully, his introduction to his Healer colleagues would be an improvement on his day. He hoped they had something for headaches.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn let himself into the entrance of the Healer's building. It was his first real look at his new workplace. A small bell rang as he opened the door and he gave a small smile at the clever solution. It certainly solved the problem of a patient having to call out. The lobby was clean, but austere, nothing more than a series of benches along the well-scrubbed walls. The astringent scent of cleaner overlaid everything.

"Coming!" a voice called as footsteps pattered down the rear hallway. A green clad figure ducked through the doorway, straightening up as he entered the room. Even so, the Healer's head came perilously close to brushing the entrance.

"Can I help you?" The voice emerging from the massive torso was a surprising smooth tenor, not the bass Kyminn had expected.

"Healer Kyminn Danner. Assigned here and to work with the trainers." He stuck out his hand, determined to take advantage of the spate of friendliness, just in case it disappeared.

"Ah! The fellow…"

"...with the dogs. Yes, I'm getting quite a lot of that." Kyminn admitted sheepishly.

A grin. "Let me guess. Lyell gave you a hard time, did he?"

The Healer was one of the largest people Kyminn had ever met. He reminded Kyminn of Hugo, Captain Ashkevron's equally oversized war horse. Looking at the Healer, Kyminn suspected that if Nikki were to ask for directions, this fellow would simply pick up her _and_ Hugo and set them down in the right direction. He smothered a small smile at the image and simply said, "Among others. I'm learning that apparently, it's 'not done'."

A snort. "Don't let him bother you. He's all bark and no bite." The Healer grinned at his own joke. "Tysen Carrell, at your service. Our senior, Aldo Mennis, has gone into town. We make the trip about once a sennight for some of the fresh herbs that don't come in on the usual supply wagon. He'll be back this afternoon."

"I'm surprised you're still bringing in fresh herbs," Kyminn admitted. "It seems a bit late in the season."

Carrell's grin was infectious. "You must be from further north. And apparently, no one has let you in on Warford's secret."

"Oh?" Kyminn leaned against the wall, inviting the other to share.

"Two things. First, we're on the lee side of the hills. That makes this valley more temperate than you'd think and gives some extra length on the growing season. Secondly, there's some hot springs just outside of town. It's not like those 'vales of eternal summer' from the children's tales, but there are some pockets where it stays green well into the hard snows. I'm not sure when people first decided it was a good idea to plant medicinal herbs in those pockets, but we get to reap," a chuckle, "the rewards!"

"Interesting!" Kyminn was briefly taken in by the enchanting notion of a hot spring on a cold winter's day. From the look on Tysen's face, the other Healer knew exactly what Kyminn was thinking.

"There's several that have been set up for swimming and lounging. I'm sure someone will be happy to show you around." Carrell waved a plate-sized hand around the lobby. "In the meantime, I'd better show you around _here_. Where'd you do your training?"

"First at home under a pair of trained Healers, then finished in Haven." That part of it was easy to say. He tried to keep his tone casual as he added, "I don't have a Healing gift for people though." Kyminn carefully looked away, afraid of seeing disappointment on his new colleague's face.

Tysen's "Hmm," wasn't reassuring, nor were his next words. "Aldo isn't going to like that. He's a bit of a snob where Gifts are concerned, I'm afraid. Tends to feel the Gifted just do it all better." A hand clapped Kyminn on the shoulder, nearly staggering him. "Don't worry about it though. You'll be plenty busy and won't have to deal with his prejudices too much. Lady knows that we can used someone with brains and training! I supposed it's too much to ask if you know anything about orthopedic traumas? We see a lot of badly broken bones here."

"Well, as a matter of fact…" Kyminn began as he followed Tysen on the tour.

The next few months were going to be challenging, but at least he'd found some allies.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Kyminn found he thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon with Tysen. With the camp housing over 400 people, there was never any lack of work for the healers. Most complaints were minor – rashes, coughs, bruises and sore muscles from recruits not used to spending hours in the saddle. Apparently, salves and liniments were prepared by the gallon.

He and Tysen had just finished mixing up another batch and were cleaning the still-room when the senior Healer returned. By physique and demeanor, Aldo Mennis was such an opposite to Tysen that Kyminn almost suspected someone had gone out of their way to mismatch the two men. Where Tysen was tall and good humoured, the senior healer proved to be short, rotund and sour.

"I know who you are." The older man cut Kyminn off before he could introduce himself. "Someone else that thinks he can be a Healer even though he can't _see_ what he's doing." Mennis waved his hand irritably. "I know the circle thinks it's acceptable, but next thing you know, every herb-woman and midwife will be thinking they are fit to wear the green."

Kyminn very much wanted to point out that 'herb-women' and 'midwives' vastly outnumbered the Gifted and, as a result, saved far more lives than Healers did. Instead, he opted to pick his battles – trying to change this fellow's mind was a waste of breath.

Mennis gave a final grunt and swept his gaze around the still-room. "At least you'll be good for something. Make sure you clean up properly when you're done. I'll make sure to give you a list of what you're to prepare. Oh," and he gave Kyminn's clothes a distasteful look. "Since you think you're a Healer, make sure you dress like one. I expect to see you in Greens unless you are specifically off duty. And _I_ will tell you when you're off duty." With that pronouncement, Mennis spun and stomped out.

"Don't worry Kyminn," Tysen sighed. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"I'm having trouble seeing how that's true," Kyminn admitted sourly.

"Well, he _is_ senior and he will set our schedule. But he can't prevent you from seeing patients. And unless there's a very clear problem, he can't tell you how to treat patients. His seniority alone doesn't mean he can override your professional opinion. If he tries to do that, the case would go before a review panel of other Healers. I doubt very much they would sustain his prejudice."

His earlier good mood had evaporated and Kyminn quietly returned to washing the bowls they had used. Tysen seemed to understand, for the other healer said quietly, "You're right. He's not going to be easy to work with. But he can't justify giving you an abusive schedule or sticking you with all the work. If he tries that, you have the right to complain and I'll sustain the complaint. I'm not going to put up with that kind of horsecrap and neither should you."

Easier said than done.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Warford seemed determined to deal out the good and the bad in equal measure. If he counted Major Silas as neutral, Kyminn had racked up three 'bad' so far: Lyell, Rath, and Mennis. In comparison, there were only two names in the 'good' column: Krahn and Carrell. By that accounting, the next person he had to deal with should be on the good side, although it seemed quite unfair that he should encounter quite so many disgruntled people.

Kyminn pushed open the door to the quartermaster's office. At least Corporal Krahn was one of the names on the 'good' side of the ledger. So it was with a distinct sense of cheer that he called out "Good afternoon Corporal Krahn!" as he strode in.

"Oh. You're not Corporal Krahn." Kyminn stuttered to a halt. Whoever this person seated at Krahn's desk was, she had a lot more stripes and markings on her uniform. He wasn't yet familiar with all the ranks, but he did know that more 'stuff' meant higher rank. Crap.

"You seem to be able to state the obvious." The voice was dry. "Master-Sergeant Williams, camp quartermaster."

"Healer…" he began, only to stop at her small nod.

"Healer Danner. Yes, I know who you are. It isn't very often that I see ration requisitions for dogs. You're the talk of the camp." Her tone remained bland.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, only to have her wave him to a stop again.

"First thing, my rank is Master-Sergeant. The proper form of address is 'Sergeant' or 'Master-Sergeant'. Since I am in charge of all stores for this camp, the full form of 'Master-Sergeant' is used." Her face twitched in a small smile. "Since you are not in the Guard, you could not be expected to know this, so do not consider this to be a correction. Rather, it is information offered for your enlightenment. There are a number of customs, traditions and conventions within the Guard that seem archaic, contradictory or even downright pointless when seen from the perspective of an outsider. Please accept my word that they do, in fact, fulfill a very necessary function in helping us do our jobs. If I might offer you some advice?" Here she paused, expectantly.

"Yes please, Master-Sergeant." Since she showed no sign of immediately biting his head off, Kyminn was quite willing to let her speak.

"I would suggest you take an opportunity to socialize with some of the staff here. They can help you navigate some of the conventions. Doing so will make your life here easier. Corporal Krahn would be a good choice, as would Corporals Timas and Bedsell. Make sure you get them to explain _why_ things are done. It will make more sense to you that way."

Kyminn looked at her, suddenly thoughtful. "I suppose," he said slowly, "That in explaining things to someone like me, it might be that they actually think about the why of it themselves, instead of relying on habit and obedience."

It was definitely a smile that flickered across her face, but her tone was bland. "That sounds suspicisiouly like how someone would go about developing thoughtful depth in one's leadership cadre. Imagine that."

"Imagine that." Kyminn matched her bland tone. He didn't expect to have much contact with someone in her lofty position, but he definitely liked this Master-Sergeant Williams.

"So, Healer, what brings you to the quartermaster today?" Her tone was brisk. "More special rations?"

He came back down to earth. "It turns out I need some supplies and I'm not sure how I go about getting them."

"What do you need?" The quartermaster limped out from behind the desk. Short dark hair, cropped to fit under a helmet gave the weathered face a blunt look. Judging from her rolling gait, Kyminn surmised the injury to her knee had happened a long time before. The Guard, it seemed, didn't waste talent just because of a few dents and dings.

He hesitated, not sure where to start. When he'd had time to think about it, he'd realized the list of things he'd needed was surprisingly long; and he wasn't sure how much to ask for. He settled for saying "I've been on the road since early spring. Almost everything needs replacing and I don't have any healer uniforms at all."

"I see. Well, we can fix that." The master-sergeant ran her fingers down the front of a large cabinet. What Kyminn had first thought to be very shallow drawers turned out to be a series of sliding trays. Each tray held several dozen slots, most containing a polished wooden plaque. Practiced fingers ran over the trays, selecting plaques, seemingly at random.

At her gesture, Kyminn took the wooden tiles as she pulled them out. Each was stamped with a series of letters and digits. The one in his hand read simply 'H-F 004'. Curious, he looked at the other tiles and tried to figure out what they represented: Men's BP 312, Men's CW 158, and H-B 002 were all equally opaque.

Satisfied she'd found all the tiles she wanted, the quartermaster pulled a well-used ledger down from the shelf. Flipping to the bookmarked page, she began to make a series of notations in the columns. As she wrote, she explained. "Each of these tabs lets you draw a specific amount of gear from stores. Present these to the clerk in clothing stores, which is building 11. He will record them on the matching ledger and then return them here, where they will be signed back in." She looked up from the book, her tone severe. "Do not try to give these to anyone else. Do not try to draw two allotments. Do not sell, gamble away, or lose your issued gear. You don't seem the sort of fellow to do that, but we tell everyone. I assure you, the Major _will_ send you back to Healer's with your tail between your legs if you misappropriate goods. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, Master-Sergeant. What happens if something gets torn or stained?" Kyminn had a sudden thought of how very messy patient care could get.

"Take the item to the stores clerk. If possible, we'll see that items are cleaned or mended. If not, it will be exchanged. And if you're wondering, yes, we have a lot of experience telling the difference between careless handling, deliberate damage, and normal use." From her tone, a good deal of experience indeed.

"I understand," and he did. With so much materiel to account for, it wasn't surprising that there was a strict tracking system. "Can I ask what these stand for?"

"Each describes a specific set of stores. For example, Men's BP is Men's – Basic Personal. That includes three sets each of socks and breeks, a linen night robe, two shirts, two sets of trousers, one pair of boots and a towel. You have," she looked at the tile and recorded the number in a neat hand, "tag 312. If anyone else tries to use this tag before it's signed back in, we'll know who lost it."

At his nod of understanding, she continued, "Healers – Basic, and Men's Cold Weather. You'll also need a set of Healer's Field gear. If you get sent out on a rescue, there won't be time to sign out gear. Can you think of anything else you might need?"

Aside from possibly a pack animal to transport it all, Kyminn couldn't think of anything so he simply said, "No, thank you. I don't think so. Do I come back here if it turns out that I do?"

"Try the stores clerks first. They'll know if it's something that has to be recorded or if it's what we call a consumable – something we know you're going to need more of on a regular basis. That would be something like soap for your field pack."

"I understand," and he did. It was intriguing, this glimpse into the many parts that made the Guard run so smoothly. "Thank you," he added, belatedly.

"You're welcome. Welcome to Warford, Healer." It was polite, but clearly a dismissal. Clutching his tags tightly, Kyminn quietly departed.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Building 11 turned out to be a long, low warehouse. The question as to why it was so very large was answered when Kyminn entered. A long, low counter stretched across the front of the building, with rows upon rows of shelving stretching back into the distance. Boxes, bins, cabinets, racks – a myriad of articles, each in a carefully numbered and labeled location filled the cavernous space. He stopped, agog at the sheer amount of _stuff_ in one place.

"You should see us during our annual inventory," Corporal Krahn leaned behind the counter, smiling wryly at Kyminn's expression.

"I don't even…" Kyminn shook his head. Somewhat ruefully, he laid the tags out on the counter. He foresaw a lot of hauling in his future. At least he lived on the ground floor.

"I see you've been busy," Bryce produced a ledger from under the counter, a mate to the one the master-sergeant had used. Like her, he recorded Kyminn's name, the date and the tag numbers. That done, he disappeared into the racks and began pulling things off the shelves and piling them on the counter. As he did so, he consulted a form, clearly working down a list.

As the stack of goods grew, Kyminn bit back a sigh. Lots and lots of hauling.

"There. That's most of it," Krahn pronounced from behind the mass.

"Most?"

"We seem to have run into a problem with your Greens. We don't equip a lot of Healers, so we don't keep every size in stock. I have a lot of small ones, and several that will fit your giant friend there, but nothing in your size."

"I see." Kyminn wondered what Senior Mennis' reaction would be when Kyminn tried to explain why he wasn't in Greens. Nothing good, probably.

"Can you sew?" Krahn's words interrupted Kyminn's depressing ruminations.

"Sort of," Kyminn admitted. "I can do basic mending, and I can sew people up. I don't know how to alter clothing though."

"I'll tell you what. I'll issue you the extra-large uniform. Your friend, Healer Carell, he has to alter a lot of gear. We'll see if he's willing to help you out. If not, I know a couple of other fellows who are handy that way." Krahn ducked back into the shelves, emerging to drop a last pile of green uniform on the counter. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

Corporal Krahn returned a few moments later, dragging a curious wheeled cart. It had a high, narrow bed and low sides. It was, Kyminn realized, sized perfectly for moving up and down the aisles between the shelves. Rope handles on each end allowed one to push or pull from either direction as needed.

"Help me load, you need to sign for all this." And sign Kyminn did, with the stores clerk reviewing each item on the list as it went into the cart. As a list was completed, Kyminn initialed in the appropriate spot in the ledger. He wondered how many months he'd have to work to pay for all this if he were to misplace anything. He'd never had to account for goods before. It was an odd feeling.

"There. If you put that pack on, the two of us can move this over to your room." Suiting words to action, the corporal started moving the cart towards the door. Kyminn hurried to catch up.

"Don't you have to stay here?" Kyminn wondered, adding his strength to the cart.

"You are my last visitor of the day. I'll lock the door while we're gone, and then finish closing up when I return the cart."

"Let me help you with that then, it's the least I can do." And it was. Using the cart, they were able to move everything in a single trip, a savings Kyminn appreciated tremendously.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn tapped diffidently on Carrell's door. The dim light shining beneath suggested his colleague was in the room, a supposition proved correct when the Healer appeared promptly.

"Hello Kyminn," Tysen said affably, "What brings you here?"

"I'm hoping you'd be willing to help me," Kyminn admitted. "Corporal Krahn said you might be able to help me adjust my greens. They didn't have anything in my size you see…" he trailed off hopefully.

"Say no more!" The other healer grinned. "I'm a past master at making things fit. Here, let me show you." He stepped back and opened the door wider, crossing over to flip the blankets up off his bed.

Instead of the conventional bed frame, Carrell's was an extended size, clearly adjusted to accommodate the man's oversize height. The mattress was the usual tick, but showed a neat line of stitches where two mattresses had been sewn together to fit. Clearly, Carrell had a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

"Lead the way," Tysen waved Kyminn onwards. "You've got more room. Mine's not really sized for me _and_ company." As he left, Carrell made a careful note on the slate hung beside his door. To Kyminn's questioning look, Tysen explained. "I'm the Healer on duty tonight. People always need to know where to find you, even if you're just visiting a friend."

Familiar with the protocol, if not this particular version of it, Kyminn nodded his understanding. Downstairs, Tysen proved true to his word, showing Kyminn how to mark and pin the oversized uniforms and then pick open the seams and refit everything.

"You have neat stitching," Tysen noted approvingly, nodding at Kyminn's careful work.

"I've worked on it," Kyminn was candid. "I spent a lot of time practicing on fabric and leather. I can't close up wounds the way you do, so my patients need me to be proficient at this."

The other Healer worked on hemming a set of trousers as he watched Kyminn work on a tunic. Tysen gestured at the ropy white scar running up Kyminn's forearm. "Perhaps the person who sewed up your arm could have benefited from your diligence. That looks a bit rough."

Kyminn regarded the scar soberly, remembering a storm, a traumatized Herald and a frantic Companion. Derris had been protecting his Chosen, the attack hadn't been personal. Unwilling to discuss an incident that had left a Herald in the care of a Mind-Healer, Kyminn simply said, "It was an accident. A friend of mine stitched me up. I was a bit busy bleeding." The friend in question, Herald Jannen, had died, along with his Companion Niko, in a fire the previous spring.

Perhaps Tysen had a touch of Empathy, for he simply said feelingly, "Thank goodness for friends."

In spite of his encounters with Captain Rath and Healer Mennis, Kyminn counted the day a success. Bryce Krahn was shaping up to be a friend, and Tysen Carrell had already established himself as one. Carrell had finished Healers seven years prior and had immediately taken a job with the Guard. Warford was his second station. Stories exchanged about people they both knew ("You trained under Senior Healer _Delassia?"_ ) cemented their burgeoning friendship.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Kyminn made sure he was at the training field well before the appointed ninth hour. As he had the day prior, he'd wakened before the bugle. This time though, he'd joined his colleagues in working through their morning run of patients. As predicted, the complaints had been minor, treating the myriad of blisters and aches of those doing hard physical training.

During the process, though, he'd learned a bit more about the camp itself. There were presently three main groups undergoing training. The first and largest group was two companies of new recruits. These guardsmen had been posted here immediately after enlistment, each having demonstrated a basic level of horsemanship. This group was in the initial throes of basic training and made up the majority of the patients.

The second group was smaller and their training more interesting. These were experienced troopers, each with at least one year of prior service. They would form units of scouts and raiders, spending much of their time in reconnaissance and infiltrating behind enemy lines. Their curriculum was varied, encompassing everything from tracking to how to assess a river crossing. They needed to learn how to assess terrain and bring the appropriate information back to their commanders. Experienced troopers all of them, this group tended to learn the hard way that a given situation was untenably precarious. This group were the ones who most often had to be extracted from interesting places.

The final group, the ones in the most distant barracks, proved to be officer candidates. Each of these worthies had been determined, by skill or birth, to be suitable for leadership. Although the Guard worked hard to promote talent from within, it was an unescapable fact that a significant portion of the leadership came from the wealthy or noble classes. Part of this was due to education; although the laws of Valdemar required every child be given basic instruction in reading, writing, and mathematics, few of the poor or middle class had the leisure or means to advance beyond the basics. Schools, temples and scholarships were available, but all too often 'book learning' was set aside as youngsters were needed as labour or apprentices. The system worked, but it did tend to skew things in one direction.

These 'officer-cadets' learned the same basic skills as their soldiers; marching, military discipline, cavalry drills. However, they did so separately and did not mingle with the other trainees. Some day they would command these men and women, but until then, they got to make their mistakes in private.

Since it wasn't appropriate for the officer cadets to practice their drills on other recruits, they got to practice on each other, taking turn and turnabout in various leadership tasks. It was this group that Kyminn was to observe this morning. It was with a great deal of interest that Kyminn looked over the training area, trying to figure out what the various poles and flags were for.

"Excuse me, I've told to come here and observe training. Would you be able to tell me what, exactly, I'm seeing?" Judging from the rank markings, Kyminn suspected the person he'd addressed was some sort of sergeant.

"Small party leadership tasks," the man replied, although this didn't tell Kyminn much of anything. At Kyminn's continued look of confusion, the sergeant elaborated. "The cadets will be broken into small groups. Each leader will be given a task that he or she must accomplish. The cadet must come up with a plan, communicate it to the group, and then direct them while they execute the plan."

"That seems fairly straightforward," and it did, to Kyminn.

"It is Healer, or it should be." The sergeant's grin was the laconic smile of someone who had watched the process many times before. "Remember that most of these cadets grew up with servants. They think they know all about giving directions. They are about to learn that there is a tremendous difference between telling a servant to 'clean and dust this room' and explaining to someone what supplies they need, what order to complete the task and so forth. For example, what happens when you mop the floor and _then_ sweep the ash from the fireplace?" The look was sardonic.

"I see…" Kyminn looked the course over with new eyes. "So what tasks will they be trying to accomplish today?"

The training sergeant began to point out various locations in the training area. "There are twenty-nine cadets at present. Five of those are middle class youngsters that were identified as leadership candidates when they enlisted. One cadet was promoted from corporal, another from sergeant. The rest are fairly highly born. The cadets will be broken into six groups. One group will be lining up shoulder to shoulder, arranged by height of the rider. Once the task begins, it must be completed in silence." The area designated for this task had a number of stakes in the ground, brightly coloured ribbons snapping in the wind. Kyminn wondered if the leader would realize what effect those fluttering bits of cloth were going to have on the horses.

The trainer pointed to a series of numbered, coloured flags positioned in another area. "The leader will be given a list of instructions – the order the flags must be picked up and the order they must be placed in their stands. The leader's horse is not permitted to move from the starting point." Another gesture, this to a bridge across a broad trench. Even from where they stood, Kyminn could see the bridge rocking slowly in the wind. "The leader has to move the group from that point," a sign reading 'Start', "to that point," a sign reading 'Finish'. "And before the sand in the glass runs out," the man added.

"Excuse me sergeant," Kyminn hoped he'd read the rank correctly. "The horses are going to hate that swaying bridge. What's to stop the team from going around the trench? Or using those timbers I see to stabilize the bridge? They look to be the perfect size to lock the bridge."

A wicked smile bloomed on the trainer's face. "Nothing at all, Healer. Nothing at all. The question is, _will_ they think of it?"

The other tasks were more of the same: a tangle of low lying ropes to navigate the horses through, a maze to navigate, a 'farmer-chicken-grain' river crossing puzzle. Kyminn could see that his Gift of Animal Mindspeech would have been useful in a number of tasks, like telling the horses directly where to line up, or calming the horses that were crossing the bridge. If the purpose of the training was to teach problem solving skills, then he – Kyminn – should be considered a resource. However, Captain Rath seemed to emphasize self-reliance, which left Kyminn on the sidelines. Personally, Kyminn thought that self-reliance included learning how to use _all_ the tools one could, but it wasn't his decision.

"If I may ask, sergeant, don't the former corporal and sergeant have a bit of an advantage in this lesson? Haven't they done this sort of thing before?" Kyminn was curious.

"Yes and no, Healer. They have lots of experience giving instruction and making sure tasks are complete. Coming up with the plan and communicating it, that can take more practice. Add in that some of the other cadets are a bit prickly about their previous rank and it can be a challenge. Giving orders isn't the same thing as leading, and a habit of following orders can be a difficult habit to set aside."

"Thank you, sergeant, you've given me a lot to think about."

A clatter of hoof beats on the track warned them the students were arriving. The cadets were formed up neatly in their ranks, accompanied by two additional trainers. The sergeant quickly broke them up into their groups, assigning each a task and leader. As the sergeant had predicted, some of the cadets struggled with the exercise. Some were unable to communicate clearly while others had equal trouble accepting direction. The process was quite fascinating to watch, really.

About half way through the morning, a rider broke away from the 'numbered flags' station and approached the trainer. "Excuse me, Sergeant Talbot, but our team leader has sent me to ask if we're allowed to get help from the Healer during this exercise."

"What kind of help did Cadet Venn have in mind?" The trainer had clearly been instructed to not let Kyminn use his Gifts.

"He would like to know if we're allowed to use the Healer to carry instructions from the team leader to the team. The leader isn't allowed to move and he can't shout the instructions that far. He'd like to use the Healer, if the Healer is willing." The cadet looked hopefully at Kyminn.

At a nod from Sergeant Talbot, Kyminn grinned. "I'd be happy to help. Lead the way!"

With Kyminn's assistance, the team was able to finish the task with relative ease, although Kyminn found himself rather worn out by the end of it. Cadet Venn, a serious looking red-head, made a point of thanking Kyminn profusely for his help.

"Thank you Healer Danner. I wasn't allowed to leave the starting point and the others weren't allowed to leave the task area once we started. I saw the other groups trying to do it with hand signals and it seemed like they were having a lot of trouble. This was all I could think of."

Kyminn thought a moment. Sergeant Talbot hadn't said anything about discussing tasks with the trainees once said tasks were finished, so it couldn't be construed as unfair assistance. And what he was about to discuss had absolutely nothing to do with horses, so Captain Rath would have no complaint. "I've had the advantage of watching the other groups go ahead of you and I thought of at least two other ways you could have done that."

"Really? How?" Venn looked surprised.

"The instructions were in two parts, right? The first part told you which flags to retrieve, and in which order. Once that was done, you got the second part, which told you what order to put the flags in the stands, right?"

The cadet nodded. "The instructions were different. We had to pick up ten flags, and they got put back in a different order than we picked them up. The problem was trying to tell people which flags to put back and in what order."

"Well, one way involves people coming as close to you as possible and trading flags so that rider number one has the first two flags, and so on. It would require some pointing and shouting, but it's faster in the long run. Definitely easier than hand-waving over a distance, trying to point to someone and signal that flag 'Yellow Four' goes next. The second method," and Kyminn paused, adding, "Could I please see the instructions for a moment?"

Baffled, the cadet handed them over. As Kyminn had expected, the information needed was in the first two lines:

 _1._ _Once the task begins, the Task Leader must remain mounted at all times. The Task Leader's horse may not leave the start point._

 _2._ _Once the task begins, neither the squad members nor their mounts may leave the task area._

"I'd just like to point out," Kyminn said politely, "That it doesn't say that _you_ have to stay at the start point, only your horse. And your squad mate can't leave once they enter – it doesn't say they _have to_ enter. Swap horses with someone. They stay at the start point on your horse and you go give all the instructions you need."

The cadet looked shocked, then chagrinned and finally, cautious. "Interesting, but I'm not sure how Sergeant Talbot would feel about that."

Kyminn shrugged. "You probably know him better than I do, but would hazard a guess that he wouldn't be upset if you were to ask him if it were allowed. You asked about getting my help, after all."

"True, but it seems sort of outside the rules to nit-pick the instructions like that."

A nod from the Healer. "And you're right. I'm just an observer and I'm not really sure what the purpose of this training was. Communications? Planning? Problem solving? Teamwork? And I'm NOT suggesting you make a habit of bypassing your instructions. What I AM suggesting is that you figure out the best possible way to fulfill those instructions."

The cadet looked thoughtful. "Thank you, Healer. I'll think about that. Just out of curiosity, how would you have gone about it?"

The healer thought about Captain Rath's likely reaction if Kyminn mentioned Animal Mindspeech. 'Not good' was an understatement. Kyminn just shook his head with a smile. "That's going to remain my secret."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The structured life of a military camp meant that Kyminn soon fell into a routine. He still woke before the bugles, spending those quiet moments with the dogs. Training them to "go" by the stable manure piles had taken only a couple of days. The dogs then returned to Kyminn's room, to doze while he saw the day's first round of patients.

As Tysen had predicted, Healer Mennis was unable to prevent Kyminn from seeing patients, although the senior made a point of reviewing Kyminn's work for the first few sennights. Mennis' scrupulosity turned out to be an unexpected bonus, for the senior was forced to be precisely evenhanded in the distribution of duties. That the bulk of Kyminn's day was spent at the training grounds pleased Mennis greatly, and he made no secret of preferring that Kyminn's other duties took him away from the infirmary for candlemarks at a time.

For his part, Kyminn simply avoided Mennis wherever possible, refusing to be drawn into conflict. The junior was careful not to comment on the senior's behavior and accorded Mennis the appropriate professional respect. Conversations between to two were cold, cordial and infrequent; a state they both preferred.

Kyminn and Tysen, on the other hand, worked together splendidly. They quickly learned how to adjust to each other's strengths and backstop their weaknesses. The myriad of minor cases they encountered, like a trooper with an injured hand, were a good example of how the two techniques could work together.

The trooper in question had come in just after breakfast, his face an interesting combination of white shock and green nausea. The fellow was very carefully _not_ looking at his hand. Fingers are not supposed to bend in some directions.

Kyminn looked at the soldier's hand and took in the trooper's expression. What was it about distorted body parts that turned even the most rugged soldier into fainthearted babies? This fellow needed to lie down before he just went ahead and fell down.

Kyminn got the soldier onto a bed, making sure the restraining rail was in place. The last thing they needed was a fainting trooper rolling out of bed and adding a head injury. "I'll be right back; I'm just getting Healer Carrell."

The trooper, already, pale, blanched even further. "A second Healer? It's bad, isn't it?" He was still refusing to look at the distorted hand.

Kyminn wanted to roll his eyes at the question, but the professional Healer in him recognized that this poor trooper had no way of knowing that – regardless of how dire the injury looked, it really was very minor. "You have dislocated two fingers. You're going to be fine. You won't be able to play the lute for a few days, but that's it." Kyminn used his best version of the healer's "you're-not-going-to-die-today" voice.

"But I don't play the lute," the soldier was clearly confused. Kyminn's apparent non-sequitur, however, had distracted him from the injury. It also let him emotionally process the idea that his injury could be downgraded from "mangled" to "minor". Given the chance to express honest confusion at the Healer's off-beat comment gave the trooper an excuse to mask his own embarrassment at the overreaction. Preserving a patient's dignity went beyond making sure that infirmary gowns covered all one's personal bits.

"Then you have nothing to worry about. I'll be right back," and in moments, Kyminn was, Tysen trailing behind.

"There are a number of ways to do this," Kyminn said briskly. "The first way is that I dose you with poppy and then reset your fingers. You'd sleep most of the day and it would be several days before you are fully recovered. The second way is that Healer Carrell here," Kyminn indicated the other man, "does a full Healing on you while he resets your fingers. You would walk out of here tired, but fully fit. Healer Carrell would also be tired, possibly too tired to be of much good if the roof were to fall down on our heads. So, we're going to take the middle road."

"Middle road?" The soldier eyed Tysen as the Healer gently rested fingers on the trooper's arm. The look of relief on the trooper's face when the pain block went on was something that always gave Kyminn a good feeling. Experience told him to wait a few moments for Carrell's Gift to complete the next part, balancing the flood of strain and anxiety triggered by the cessation of pain. When the trooper's colour and breathing had returned to normal, it was a matter of tugs and pops to reset the fingers.

The trooper blinked in surprise at the change, gently flexing the previously distorted digits. As Kyminn checked to make sure there was no additional injury, Carrell said curiously, "By the way, how did you manage to get hurt?"

The soldier flushed in embarrassment at the question. "A bunch of us were leaving breakfast and there was a crowd in the doorway. No one wanted to give way so we all pushed through. My hand got slammed against the door."

"At least you weren't trying to prove how strong you were by breaking boards with your fists," Kyminn pointed out. He unstopped a canister and shook out some green capsules.

"Or doing knuckle push-ups on boulders and then falling off," Carrell added. The Healer's eyes grew unfocused for a moment as he gently ran his fingers down the trooper's injured hand. "There. Everything is as it should be. I've done most of the Healing, but my friend here is going to give you some medicine. Take two now, two at bedtime and two in the morning. It will keep the swelling down. That hand will be stiff for a couple of days, nothing you haven't worked through before. Let your weapons instructor know that you might have issues with your grip for a day or so – he'll show you how to compensate."

"That's it?" The soldier was startled, carefully pocketing the folded slip of paper containing his capsules.

"Afraid so. You're cleared to go back to training. You don't even get the morning off." Kyminn was cheerfully unsympathetic. "Just remember, no lute playing."

"No lute playing. Got it," the soldier said bemusedly as he left, flexing his hand in vague surprise.

"Lute playing? Really?" Tysen grinned.

Kyminn shrugged. "He looked like he was about to faint. I needed to distract him."

"Just for that, you get to write up the case notes," Tysen snorted.

 _SCENE BREAK_

The candlemarks following breakfast and extending into most of the afternoon belonged to Captain Rath. Since Captain Rath had declined to assign Kyminn any training duties, Kyminn made up his own. Frankly, he preferred it, although he chafed at the restrictions the Captain had set out.

Kyminn quickly developed a good working relationship with most of the training cadre and the various grooms and horse-masters. They, at least, had no issues with him using his Gifts to their benefit. With the silent assent of the horse-masters, Kyminn mastered the art of obeying the letter of the Captain's strictures while ignoring their intent.

Captain Rath had been explicit in stating that Kyminn was not to use Animal Mindspeech on any horse that was currently in training, and Kyminn obeyed. He did, however, work extensively with the remounts, new arrivals and unassigned animals. He spent hours in the saddle each day, often using his own horses to demonstrate. Once Kyminn explained to a horse what it was supposed to do, the rest was a matter of practice. Backing, turning on the haunches, shoulder in, pirouettes – all exercises that would have taken sennights to teach could be started in a matter of days. Freed from having to work up to the skills, the grooms and trainers were freed to practice and reinforce. The skills of the "untrained" horses grew by leaps and bounds.

Kyminn used his Gifts to do more than train the remounts. Determined that the dogs should be seen as "innocent until proved otherwise", he had never used the leads on them past the first day. Now though, the dogs were added to the training regimen. A large part of the horses' training included getting the animals accustomed to working in the noise and chaos of battle.

The recruits would take their horses through the formations, trying to keep their horses under control while drums and kettles clanged around them. Once the horses learned to cope with the din, the trainers added fluttering flags and sand bags hurtling overhead. Finally, Kyminn set the dogs to barking behind the line of horses. Mounts that were willing to suffer assorted noise and movement often proved quite unwilling to endure a predator howling at their rear.

Kyminn and the trainers had planned use of the dogs very carefully. The dogs were set several yards back of the horses, lengths clear of a panicked kick or bolt. For the dogs' own protection, each dog was firmly secured on a leash. Although the dogs were actually lying down on the ground as they barked on cue, Kyminn wasn't going to risk anyone saying the dogs had chased the horses. Finally, Kyminn dropped his shields and used his Animal Empathy freely. The Captain hadn't forbidden its use on the animals undergoing training and it allowed him to assess just how far they could stress the horses.

In point of fact, Kyminn had used his Animal Empathy very freely during training. Per the Captain's instructions, Kyminn had not "made sure the animals felt good." What he _had_ done was listen passively as the beasts trained. He was able to tell the trainers when a horse and rider were ill-matched, or when a horse was near to reaching its limit. With Kyminn able to identify issues before they became full-blown problems, training was actually ahead of schedule.

The last candlemark or so of Kyminn's training time was given over to weapons work. He was determined not to lose the skills he had worked so hard on over the past summer, and grimly aware that such skills might be needed soon. There was no shortage of able instructors and Kyminn was gratified that no one questioned why a Healer would want to learn sword work.

At the suggestion of one of the senior weapon's trainers, Kyminn spoke to the camp armorer about having armour made for the mastiffs. It turned out that there were a number of possible patterns and Kyminn and the armorer spent several days discussing various options before settling on a design.

Built for strength rather than speed, the mastiffs were most likely to find themselves closing in on a dismounted opponent. They needed something that would help deflect slashes and blades, and were large enough dogs to bear a significant weight of armour. The style eventually selected was doubled leather over quilted padding. Much thought had been given to the consideration as to whether the armour should have two main parts, fastened along the dogs' backs like a beetle's carapace, or three parts, with a back plate and two side plates.

It took some experimentation, as well as a great deal of patience on the part of the mastiffs, but they finally settled on a modification of the two-piece style. The armour fastened across the back, with a finger-width gap along the spine. That gap was, in turn, protected by a chain and scale over-piece. The side plates were divided into two parts also. Kyminn had at first argued that a single, rigid piece would provide more protection, but the lack of flexibility so severely reduced the dogs' movement that he had to abandon the notion. Instead, the side pieces met just behind the front shoulders, giving the dogs ample ability to twist and turn.

Thin scales covered the leather with larger scales protecting the gaps and joints. A thinner cowl of chain and scale was fit over the head and neck, providing extra protection to the massive chests. The end result looked a bit strange, with the dogs' ears fitting through the gaps in the armour, but, given the shape of the dog's heads, there was no other choice. A light, flexible piece along the belly and chain "sleeves" part way down each leg completed the armour.

It took a fair amount of persuasion on Kyminn's part before the dogs accepted the new gear without complaint. However, they become much more agreeable after they learned that a rap with a training sword didn't sting when the armor was on. Somewhat to Kyminn's surprise, there was no shortage of volunteers to spar with the dogs, although the consequences for anyone doing so without proper padding were severe. The soldiers sparred with wooden training swords, but the dogs fought without restraint.

Kyminn also taught the dogs the best way to take down a horse. This was a project he undertook without the assistance or input of anyone else. While it was, to his mind, a valuable military skill, Kyminn didn't want to destroy anyone else's career if the captain disagreed.

The training was done in stages. The first was teaching the dogs to leap at and touch or "tag" the vulnerable spots on horse's body. The dogs learned to go for the throat, the point where the front legs joined the body, the hamstrings. Chalk dust on the "horses" built of bales and hide let Kyminn know when the dogs had successfully hit their marks.

That stage took only a few days, and for the rest, Kyminn took himself and the dogs well away from the camp. He wasn't sure whether it was a matter of cowardice or caution on his part, but he didn't want witnesses for the next steps.

The grey gelding, Max, let it be known that he really didn't care for the exercises, but the horse trusted Kyminn enough to allow them. So instead of the mocked up "horses", the dogs learned to tag a real one. It helped profoundly that Max had long since been trained to accept the dogs rushing up and leaping up to ride pillion or even balanced on a saddle pad. Max was less happy about having the dogs run up and leap at vulnerable flanks and legs, but he stood fast.

Kyminn thought it wise to leave the training with Max standing still. While it might be possible for the gelding to overcome his instincts to kick back at a predator leaping for his throat while Max was running, that wasn't an instinct that Kyminn wanted to interfere with. His were not going to be the only dogs on the battlefield, and Max needed to be able to defend himself.

There wasn't a great deal more that Kyminn could do for the dogs in combat against horses, so he focused on working the dogs against individuals and groups. Having the dogs working out against a group of guardsmen was an event that tended to draw a crowd, and the troopers enjoyed the challenge. The soldiers' appreciation of the canines' talents finally led Kyminn to declare an end to people trying to sneak the beasts treats. Not only was it bad for the dogs' discipline, both were starting to look distinctly pudgy. Any more snacks and Kyminn would have to start letting out their armour.

As for the collie, Skip, Kyminn didn't even try to fit him for armour. By temperament and training the animal was completely unsuited for the battlefield. Instead, Kyminn was slowly transferring the animal into the keeping of one of the horse-masters. The collie was at its happiest in a field or barn and the horsemen appreciated his help in rounding up the horses. Kyminn had at first considered handing the collie off to Tysen. The Healer came from a shepherd family and the young Healer had taken a liking to the big-hearted dog. Reluctantly, Kyminn acknowledged to himself that Tysen was as likely to end up embroiled in the coming war as Kyminn himself. There was simply no place in their future for a dog like Skip.

Kyminn's evenings were usually spent in his room, most often with Tysen and Bryce. The three could often be found playing cards, dice or various games. Bryce introduced them to a deceptively simple game which involved moving coloured stones from one point on a star to another. The rules were straightforward, but the shifting alliances of three players and the need to plan strategy always made things interesting.

One evening, Tysen appeared with what seemed to be sticks and old sweaters. The Healer pushed Bull, one of the mastiffs aside and dropped the pile on the second bed.

"What on earth is that?" Kyminn got up to peer at the pile. Poking through the mess, he extracted a moth-eaten sweater, sad draggles of wool trailing from a myriad of holes. "Please don't tell me you think we can mend these!"

"Mend, no. Salvage the wool, yes." Tysen suited action to words and began tugging at one of the loose ends. "Pull on the ends. Anything shorter than six feet goes into one pile. Everything else gets rolled up."

Bryce swung into the room, not bothering to knock. "I've got bread, cheese and some beer." He blinked at the piles. "Tysen's got…mice?"

"Tysen," said the healer serenely, "Is going to teach you two how to knit."

"Knit?" Kyminn eyed the pile of old clothes with trepidation. "Why are we going to learn how to knit?"

"Several reasons. First, it's a useful skill. Anyone can learn to make a basic scarf or blanket. Secondly, in case you didn't notice, winter is coming and poor Bull and Tip here have short coats. They need protection if you're going to have them outside for any length of time. And before you say anything, the armour isn't going to work. Yes, it's quilted, but it's also metal."

Kyminn's eyes bugged out. "You can't possibly think I can knit them jackets, can you? If I were to start now, I _might_ have something for them by Midwinter. _Next_ Midwinter that is."

"Don't be daft, Kyminn. _You_ are going to learn the basics. Maybe you can give me a scarf for Midwinter. I'll do the dogs – it will be my Midwinter gift to you." The healer looked smug. Clearly, he had it all figured out.

Bryce looked a bit reluctant. "I've seen people knitting. My mother used to do it all the time. She had the wool wrapped around her fingers…" he held up his damaged hand.

"I grew up in sheep country," Tysen reminded him. "We spent winter evenings working with yarn. There is more than one way to shear a sheep – or make something with wool. If we can't make it work with your right hand, we'll try it left handed. If that doesn't work, there's still crochet, spool knitting and a couple of other things we can do. Trust me, we _will_ find a way."

 _SCENE BREAK_

Life proceeded in precarious balance. Kyminn and Mennis studiously avoided each other. Kyminn didn't bother to complain to Healers about the senior's behaviour. Mennis was free to be an obnoxious bigot so long as he continued to be a _noninterfering_ obnoxious bigot. Kyminn expected to meet a lot of Healers like Mennis, so he may as well get used to it now.

Kyminn did, however, give serious thought to writing the Heralds about his issues with Captain Rath, but several things held back his pen. First, who would he write to? Dethor? The man was the armsmaster and helped train agents for the crown. Dethor really had no part of this problem. Talamir? Joyeaus? Complaining to the Kings Own, or the Lord Martial's Herald because Captain Rath wasn't making full use of Kyminn's talents felt unbelievably childish when framed like that. Both those worthies had much more important things to deal with than the complaints of an aggrieved Healer. Valdemar was about to go to war with Karse and Kyminn strongly suspected that if he were to write either of those Heralds with such a trivial complaint that the result would be immediate and thunderous. He also suspected it wouldn't be Captain Rath who received the lightning bolt of Heraldic fury.

Eventually though, Kyminn was going to have to explain himself to either the Captain or the Circle. He thought he knew which one he'd prefer. In the meantime, though, he simply concentrated on keeping his head down and trying to do the best he could.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 _A/N The previous chapter fought back when I went to write it and, to be honest, I wasn't that happy with it when I posted it._

 _I've gone back through it and made some edits. Most of it is just fleshing out the storyline and some of the background events. Detail has been added around the treatment of patients, training of the dogs and the friendship of Kyminn, Bryce and Tysen._

 _And before you ask, yes, those mastiffs are still kind of pudgy._

 _You may wish to re-read Chapter 6 before proceeding with this one._

 _{Huh. I just now realized that Healer Mennis' name is basically "Menace" and the angry Captain is "Wrath". I swear it was unintentional.}_

 _XXXX_

As the pace of training increased, so did the number of rumours flying about the camp. Most of the rumours suggested that Valdemar was going to war with someone, but the versions ranged from the probable: Karse or its allies, through the improbable: Rethwellen, Hardorn or Iftel, to the outlandish: the distant Shin'a'in, the ever mysterious Hawkbrothers or even a nation peopled by flying beasts and talking dogs. Other rumors asserted that the cavalry horses were all going to be replaced by Companions or that the Heralds were all leaving and the cavalry would have to replace them. On the first sets of rumours, Kyminn remained silent. On the second group, those he quashed vociferously whenever they appeared.

Both Bryce and Tysen had long since realized that Kyminn's presence was somehow related to the changed pace of training and half-heard happenings in the distant capital. Word had trickled down that a second, even larger group of trainees would be arriving sometime before Midwinter. These trainees would be joined by infantry units. The cadre had been told to expect to see a winter of combined training and extensive exercises. Bryce reported that construction on new barracks and storerooms would begin shortly and that existing storerooms were bulging at the seams.

Kyminn was still constrained by Talamir's instruction, so he was unable to comment on these preparations. His silence was a mere technicality though, for his Foresights spoke volumes. Both Tysen and Bryce had become very familiar with Kyminn's version of Foresight, for it was apt to strike at any time. He'd explained it to them that Foresight wasn't like "Sitting down of an evening and opening the mail at one's leisure", but rather that Foresight was more of "someone jumping out from behind a tree and shouting 'Boo!'". His friends often helped extract and record the details of these events. A Foresight that described "many horses under attack, sometime in the next summer, in a region to the south" was difficult to misinterpret. At his request, though, they too held silent.

Kyminn continued to record his Foresights and send them on to Talamir. He had no way of knowing which ones might prove useful, although he was getting a distinct geographical "sense" about some of them. He included those impressions as well. Maybe it would help identify areas where attacks would occur.

As graduation for the trainees grew nearer, preparations reached a fever pitch. Major Silas announced that a number of dignitaries, including senior members of the Guard and at least one Heraldic observer would be in attendance. Instead of the usual parade and march pasts, the ceremony would be expanded to include skills demonstrations and some of the more advanced cavalry maneuvers.

With training completed and the troopers moving into rehearsals for the event, Kyminn confined his participation to observing with his Animal Empathy and dropping a quiet word to the trainers as required. Captain Rath was much in evidence, observing the rehearsals and making last minute adjustments to the program. Kyminn took care to maintain his distance, while at the same time trying to not give the impression that he was avoiding the Captain.

When one of the horses suddenly came up lame, Kyminn was able to identify the exact moment that Rath found out that the remounts had been trained by Kyminn. The squad leader, standing at attention along with the hapless trooper whose horse had been kicked by a stablemate, gestured at the paddock full of remounts. The captain had shaken his head in negation, clearly indicating that those horses would not be suitable.

The trooper had backed up his squad leader, politely indicating the horses again and then nodding at the senior trainer and Kyminn.

Captain Rath spun and stalked over to the trainer. The sergeant snapped instantly to attention, his eyes never leaving his superior's face. Kyminn didn't need to hear the conversation to know what was being said. The few short, sharp sentences sufficed and the look the Captain gave Kyminn was black with fury.

The trainer added something else and the Captain wrenched his gaze away from Kyminn. Whatever the sergeant said next failed to improve the Captain's mood. A stabbing gesture of negation at Kyminn and the Captain snarled something before storming off.

Kyminn took a deep, shuddering breath. This was going to get ugly.

"Excuse me, Healer Danner, but the Captain has ordered that you are to remain with him for the remainder of the afternoon." The sergeant's tone was apologetic.

"Not your fault Sergeant. Don't worry about it," Kyminn tried to inject confidence into the comment. "What about the horse? If I Heal her, she'll be fit for the ceremony tomorrow. Or does he plan to rest her and use one of the remounts instead?"

The sergeant was a professional, and as such, he tried very hard to keep his personal opinion out of his tone. "I've been ordered to have Healer Mennis see to the mare. If he is unable to get her fit, then Healer Carrell. If she is still not fit, the trooper will sit out. The Captain has ordered that the remounts are not to be used until he has had a chance to have their training assessed."

Kyminn's jaw dropped, then closed with a snap. Regardless of whether the sergeant personally disagreed with the Captain, the soldier was duty bound to carry out his orders. While any trooper had to right to question an order that was unlawful, the same did not hold true for an order that was merely time-wastingly stupid. Any comment or protest that Kyminn made would only complicate matters and put the sergeant in an even worse position, so Kyminn simply nodded his understanding and went after the Captain.

Aside from a single initial glare, Captain Rath ignored Kyminn's presence. Kyminn was more than happy to stand well back in the probably vain hope that the Captain's temper would improve over the course of the afternoon.

At first, the familiar _scritch-scritch_ on his shields almost came as a relief. Kyminn's Foresights regarding the coming conflict had been growing stronger and more distinct as the winter progressed, so he thinned his shields and waited, blackly glad to have something besides Captain Rath's mood to think about.

 _A tangle of horses._

 _A pale dun mare, veering. Shoulders colliding. Legs intertwined._

 _Another mare, this one a bay, spinning, leaping. Crashing._

 _Crack – necks broken, screaming. Horses dying._

 _Soon-soon-soon!_

Kyminn blanched, sweating. "Captain Rath!" He pushed his way through the crowd of non-coms and trainers around the Captain. "Stop the drill. There's going to be an accident!"

"I will NOT!" The captain's fury was towering. "You were told not to meddle in the training. Bad enough you did gods know what with the remounts. Now you think you're going to tell me how to run drills?"

Kyminn matched him, snarl for snarl. "Foresight! There WILL be an accident!"

"I am not going to let some meddler with a half-cocked vision instruct me in my duty. You _will_ be silent until _I_ give you leave to speak. Is that clear, Healer?"

Kyminn didn't bother to respond. He simply dropped his shields and _reached_ for as many equine minds as he could. He couldn't reach all of them, but he did center his attentions on the dun mare in the third rank. _"_ _Walk on!"_ he screamed at the horses with voice and mind, telling them to slow from a canter to a walk. _"_ _Shoulder right!"_ A turn that would shift the mare's balance, away from the patch of ice beneath her feet.

The orderly lines of men and horses dissolved into chaos. The horses furthest from Kyminn, and those his Mindspeech had been unable to reach, continued to canter for several more paces, horses and riders both confused at the sudden slowing of their fellows. Most of the horses made the right turn, but not all did. Horses and men collided, at least one horse landing hard on his front knees.

Kyminn continued to _reach_ , ruthlessly taking control of a horse's muscles when necessary, turning animals aside, stopping some in their tracks. Belated bugle calls sounded, the horses responding to the familiar tones. More quickly than a bystander would have thought, the horses regained their places, stamping and giving little half-bucks of confusion. Their riders had all managed to keep their seats when their mounts suddenly stopped responding to reins and knees, but they now looked wildly about in confusion, seeking an answer for their horses' unexplained fits. More than a few horses were limping and the gelding who had fallen was being led off by his rider, blood oozing from the horse's knees.

Kyminn saw none of it. Even in the winter cold he was sweat-drenched and gasping. The first lancing spikes of the reaction headache were starting and he swayed, dropping to one knee. A fist in the collar of his jacket hauled him to his feet.

"You will answer for that, Healer Danner." The captain's tone was savage. "Willful disobedience to orders of a designated superior. Intentionally causing injury to men or mounts of the King's Guard. Interference with a person performing a lawful military duty while said military is in a state of alert." The hand shook his collar, sending spirals of pain through Kyminn. "And those are just for starters. Every one of those is a treasonable charge, and I guarantee you that I will do everything in my power to make sure your trial reflects that." The hand released Kyminn, causing him to stagger again. "Confine this man."

The hands that grabbled him were rough but not actively unfriendly. Blinded, he stumbled and swayed, more dragged than walking. He nearly fell up the steps to the guard-house, barking his shins painfully on the top step. The hands propelled him down a hallway, finally pushing him unceremoniously down onto a thin bed. He simply curled up where he lay, not caring if the tears on his cheeks were from the pain or the door locking behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Kyminn had no idea how much time had passed, save that the afternoon shadows had lengthened to evening. Even opening his eyes that bit had caused him to slide into oblivion for several moments

"Hey there fellow!" The voice sent showers of pain through Kyminn's head and he gave out a muted groan.

"You haven't eaten your dinner. If you don't eat it in the next half a candlemark, it gets thrown out. After that there'll be nothing until breakfast." From the sound of it, the speaker was standing in the doorway.

"Healer." Kyminn croaked, his stomach roiling from the reaction headache.

"I know you're a Healer," the voice was profoundly unsympathetic. "The Captain's orders were very clear. Until Major Silas hears your case, you will remain in custody."

"I. Need. A. Healer." The words were pushed out through gritted teeth.

Footsteps moved closer to the bunk. "Are you injured?"

"No. Reaction headache." Kyminn lost the battle with his stomach, retching over the side of the bunk. Sulfurous cursing greeted this development and the speaker leapt backwards, away from the impact area.

"You admit you're not injured. All you've got is a headache and nausea. Sorry Healer, but we don't call a Healer for fellows stupid enough to get themselves drunk-sick. The Healer will be by in the morning for the usual wellness check of anyone in confinement. You're just going to have to wait." The footsteps, decidedly louder than required, stomped towards the door. The slam that followed caused Kyminn to retch again.

 _SCENE BREAK_

The night that followed was a grim misery. Kyminn wasn't sure if the periods of non-awareness were blackouts or sleep. Either way, it didn't make a difference in his pain level.

"Kyminn?" The voice was quiet, soothing as cool fingertips rested on his temples. The pain faded slowly, leaving him gasping shuddering breaths of relief. He opened gritty, swollen eyes to see Tysen's blurred face looming overhead.

"Ty?" Kyminn croaked as he let Tysen sit him up. Tysen said nothing, just held the mug of water for Kyminn to drink. The Healer drained it twice before trying to speak again. "Tysen? What's going on?"

Tysen grimaced and sat down beside him on the cot. "The whole camp is thrashing about like a staked boar. Rumours have you telling the horses to attack Captain Rath, or alternatively, saving his life. Some say he exposed you as a Karsite spy, others that he went crazy and had you arrested."

Kyminn buried his head in his knees. From the few syllables that Tysen could make out, Kyminn was indulging in some extremely depressed cursing. Finally, he ran down. Raising his head a trifle, he said cautiously, "How is it that you're here? Isn't it Mennis' day for this duty? Frankly, I'm surprised he let you in here with me. We might collaborate, you know." There was a bitter warning undertone in Kyminn's words.

"He didn't want to let me anywhere near you. However, there were also injuries as the result of…whatever happened yesterday. Captain Rath imposed on Aldo, as a senior Healer, to address those injuries personally. Aldo had no choice but to hand this duty over." Carrell snorted, then, carefully, "So what, exactly did happen yesterday?"

A sigh. "Rath found out I helped train the unassigned horses. Not to put too fine a point on it, he was livid."

"You always knew he was going to find out. You had a plan, didn't you?" Tysen poured another mug of water and pressed it into Kyminn's hands.

A long gulp, then "I did. I was hoping that the results would speak for themselves. I had planned to point out that I followed his orders to the letter. I also hoped it would help that everything we did was according to the training manual. The same skills, the same drills – all of it with a trained horse-master. The only difference was that I was able to help them get it done several times faster." Another swallow of water, slower this time. "If worst came to worst…"

"Yes? If worst came to worst?" Tysen prodded.

"I was going to ask for a Herald. To ask for a mediation between my orders from Talamir," Kyminn didn't see Tysen's eyes widen at the name, "and the Captain's orders." Kyminn looked sadly at his friend. "I didn't want to write Talamir or Joyeaus, "Eyes grew still wider, "and complain. They have better things to do. But I finally figured I could ask any Herald to mediate, or send for clarification. You see, if _I_ was the one in the wrong, the Herald would set me right. And if it were the Captain, then the order would come through the proper channels, not some jumped up country Healer trying to tell him what to do, do you see?"

Tysen scrubbed his face with his hands, breath releasing with a whoosh. "I do see, and I see what you were trying to do. But by the Seven Small Gods Kym, what went wrong?"

"I had a Foresight," it was a whispered groan. "A mare was going to flinch at a flash of sun on ice. Then when she hit the ice off-balance, she'd go down. They were at the canter, so it was bad. You know I don't see human injuries, but at least two horses were going to be killed in the pile up." Kyminn fixed his gaze on Tysen, his voice a low growl. "I told the Captain. I told him I'd had a Foresight and there would be an accident. I told him to stop the drill. He told me," and Kyminn found he was shaking with remembered anger, "to shut up. I refused. I stopped the drill. I took over some of the horses. Yes, some got hurt. But no one died, dammit." The surge of anger started his head throbbing again. Tysen must have sensed it, for the Healer rested his fingers on Kyminn's forehead for a moment, pushing the pain away.

"That's…how do you defend against that?" Tysen shook his head. "Or I guess the question is, how does he expect to prosecute that? He gave you an order, you disobeyed. How do you prove a Foresight that was prevented?"

Kyminn gave a half shrug. "I'm going to ask for a Herald. The training and the accident are two different things, but they both come down to Captain Rath and my Gifts. I think I've done what I was supposed to do. The Captain doesn't see it that way. I guess normally Major Silas would adjudicate, but I'm sure he's equipped to deal with something like this either. I'm not sure I'd get a fair trial from a military court."

Tysen's nod was one of reluctant assent. The Healer unlimbered his shoulder bag and began mixing a familiar set of powders.

As the brew steeped, Kyminn looked levelly at his friend. "So what happens now. Do you know?" He gave a sudden start, nearly pushing Tysen off the cot. "The dogs!"

"Relax!" Tysen hastened to reassure him. "Bull and Tip are with me. I borrowed your room since there isn't enough space in mine. I've given Skip over to the care of Master-of-Horse Barden." He looked apologetic. "I know you were planning on doing that eventually, and I thought it best to get at least one of them out of Rath's sight."

Kyminn looked relieved. "Thank you. Thank you so very much. If the Captain goes after the others…try and see if you can get a Heraldic review for them too. He shouldn't be able to declare them dangerous without some kind of evidence. If he still tries something…" Kyminn hesitated, looking sideways at Tysen. "Are you sure you want to get involved in this? Your contract is with the Guard; you could end up making some enemies if you help me."

The Healer cocked his head and said quietly, "Kyminn, I'm not an idiot. Things are going to get very bad in the near future. You haven't said and I'm not asking, but a very Gifted person who can train _war_ horses and _war_ dogs has been posted to help with cavalry training along the southern edge of Valdemar. Training and supplies are ramping up. I don't need Foresight to see what's coming. I very much doubt, my friend," and his tone held genuine sorrow, "that the Guard would be willing to break my contract right now. And even if that were to happen…I think there's going to be a lot of work for Healers in the next little while."

A silent look of understanding passed between them. Kyminn took a deep breath and said, with some reluctance, "If Captain Rath refuses to allow a Herald to judge the issue, or the Herald refuses, then appeal to Talamir. I realize it's somewhat extreme," a profound understatement, "But Herald Talamir assigned them to me in the first place. I realize that they're just a couple of dogs, but he made me responsible for them and I won't let them be abused or killed indiscriminately."

"Whoof. You play for keeps, don't you?" Tysen gave a weak smile.

"I try to live up to my responsibilities is all," Kyminn looked around the spartan cell. "Sometimes that works out better than others. Which brings me back to the other question. Do you know what's going on with my status?"

"I'll see what I can find out. I'm also going to tell the constables that you are now my patient and I'm to be called any time you ask for me." At Kyminn's raised eyebrow, Tysen nodded. "Yes, your request last night for a Healer was duly recorded in the shift log, as was the constable's reason for refusal. I'm still trying to figure out if I can go after the little rat for it, but I'm not sure yet."

With those words, all Kyminn could do was drink the restorative brew and rest. He hated not being in control of his own life.

 _SCENE BREAK_

The next several candlemarks passed with monotonous sameness. Every three candlemarks, Kyminn drank more of the herbal infusion. Breakfast and lunch came and went, Kyminn finishing everything on the trays and wishing there was more. He wanted to check on the dogs and horses, but knew he was two or three days yet from being able to use his Gifts again. The constable's visits were punctual and brief, although the guard made a point of asking if a Healer should be contacted.

Finally, about the second hour of the afternoon, a multitude of footsteps sounded in the hallway. As near as Kyminn had been able to determine, he was the sole person in custody at the moment, so this crowd was probably here to see him. He sat up and brushed as many wrinkles out of his abused greens as possible.

The first person in the door was, not surprisingly, the constable. That worthy was present any time the door was unlocked. The second was also not a surprise, although Kyminn admitted he was relieved to see Tysen again. The next two were strangers, although Kyminn was now able to interpret their military insignia with ease. It still didn't explain why a Colonel of Horse and a Colonel of Foot were in his cell. The last person to squeeze into the room moved slowly, although the others gave way without seeming to realize they had done so.

"Hello Kyminn," Randen said. "I think we need to talk."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 _Randen!_

So sudden was the lightness in his soul that he wanted to cry out in relief. Randen knew what Kyminn's Gifts were, what Kyminn was supposed to accomplish, knew about the Tedrel mercenaries and the grim future they brought. He wanted to dance, to howl, to carol with joy!

 _:Say nothing.:_

He'd never heard the mindvoice before. Never, in the nearly two years that he'd known Derris had the Companion broached the silence and spoken to Kyminn. The swirl of emotion behind those two words spoke volumes of warning, a need for balance, of concern for Kyminn. His voice froze in his chest and he simply accorded the Herald a profound bow of respect.

"Herald Randen." Kyminn caught the Herald's warning glance and faint nod.

Randen turned to Tysen, the Herald's tone formal. "Healer Carrell, is this man well enough to leave confinement and answer some questions?"

That subtle change, from 'friend' to 'Healer' settled over Tysen in the invisible cloak of duty. The Healer nodded gravely. "He is, Herald. Healer Danner is currently suffering from an over-exertion of his Gifts. Provided he takes his medication as prescribed and is not overstrained, he will recover fully within a few days."

"Would a brief period, no more than a candlemark, overstrain him?" Randen didn't look at Kyminn when he asked the question.

Tysen's response was measured and careful. "It would not, provided that the patient is not badgered or harangued unduly." The Healer made a point of meeting the gaze of each of the Colonels. "This is not an attempt to shield a colleague from justifiable inquiry. Strong emotions – anger, stress, even joy – are well known to affect the body as well as the spirit. This patient has undergone a real, if invisible, injury and any overstrain could cause permanent damage."

"Let the Healer sit in," the Colonel of Foot grunted. "Have to do this right and that means observing all the forms and witnesses."

Randen looked inquiringly at the Colonel of Horse and received a nod of assent. "Very well then. Constable, this man is released into my custody. You will make sure your log notes this fact. In addition, we will require a constable as an escort until the Healer's status is determined." Randen gave a decisive jerk of his chin. "We will convene at the headquarters building within the next quarter candlemark. Healer Carrell, I am asking that you go ahead and inform the headquarters staff. We will need a meeting room and a scribe."

It took a few moments to get things in motion. Kyminn and Randen waited in silence for the arrival of the escort. Kyminn was to be escorted everywhere, including having the guard wait outside the privy. Kyminn felt whipsawed. The relief of having a friend and ally (?) clanged discordantly with being treated as a prisoner. Kyminn took it as a small positive when Randen instructed the escort to allow Kyminn an opportunity to wash up and change. There wasn't enough time to shave, but even that little change improved his spirits greatly.

They reconvened in a small meeting room, not far from the Major's office. The walls were hung with a series of maps, detailing the local region and every farm, hut and settlement. Captain Rath and Major Silas were conspicuous by their absence, although it was impossible to tell if this was a good sign or not.

The Herald was the last to arrive, his single-legged pace slower than that of the others. The Herald politely, but firmly told the escort to wait in the hall and gestured for the others to take their seats around the table. A scribe sat off to one side, pens, ink, and other tools at the ready. The Herald and the two military officers sat in one small cluster, across from Kyminn. Tysen sat partway down the table, a silent observer.

Randen rapped on the table. "Before we begin, I'd like to speak to the scribe."

The young woman sat up, clearly startled to be included. "Sir? Herald?"

"I am going to ask you some questions, and I want both my questions and your answers included as part of the permanent record – and that includes the statement I've just made. Understood?"

The scribe nodded, belatedly adding a "Yes sir," as her pen flew across the page. Randen waited until she was done before he continued. "What is your name, rank, and position in this camp?"

"Sir, my name is Private Lynde Gaskin. I am a clerk and scribe assigned to the headquarters building. My usual job is to take notes in meetings and prepare documents for the Major's signature."

"Private Gaskin, we are conducting a Heraldic investigation into Guard matters. That means that everything that happens does so under my authority and the authority of the Heraldic Circle. That means that _you_ fall under my authority for the duration of this investigation. For any and all matters related to this investigation, you are answerable only to me. That means that no superior officer or other member of the Guard can give you orders on this matter." He paused while her pen scratched.

"The events of this hearing are confidential. You will not discuss them, write about them or communicate them in any way until I give you leave to do so. If any member of the Guard orders you to breach this confidence, you are not to respond. Refer them to me and report the matter to me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes Herald, I understand." The scribe bobbed her head.

Randen made a gesture for her to put her pen aside and went on more gently. "This is for your own protection. These are complex matters that we are dealing with and I don't want you caught between two conflicting sets of orders. I also don't want rumours and half-truths to get out before we get to the bottom of this." He raised an eyebrow at her until she nodded her understanding. He indicated for her to pick up her pen and then rapped on the table again.

"The purpose of this discussion is to determine how best to address charges brought against Healer Kyminn Danner. Present at this discussion are Herald Randen Sellek, Colonel Dell Landen of the Third Foot Regiment, Colonel Levis Hawrelak of First Cavalry Regiment. Also present are Healer Kyminn Danner, Healer Tysen Carrell and scribe Private Lynde Gaskin."

Randen produced a pile of documents and leafed through them. "I have here the original copies of orders to Kyminn Danner, Major Gaven Silas, and Captain Wellin Rath. The scribe will examine these documents and enter them into the record." Randen extracted another document. Kyminn knew well Randen well enough to discern how unhappy the Herald was. The Herald's voice was flatly professional.

"I have here a list of charges, brought by Captain Rath against Kyminn Danner. Some of these charges are specific to members of the Guard. As Healer Danner is _not_ a member of the Guard nor is he under contract to the Guard, those charges do not have legal standing with respect to punishment.

"However, given the type and degree of allegations represented, we must investigate whether or not there are sufficient grounds to refer the charges to the Healer's Circle for review." Randen's eyes flicked up to Kyminn's, his face holding an inscrutable expression of…warning?

"First charge: Insubordination…" The details outlined Kyminn's perfidy at having circumvented the intent of Rath's orders with respect to the training of the horses. Since the particulars of the charges were quite accurate in describing Kyminn's actions – and the fact that Kyminn had no intention of apologizing for those actions – he made no comment.

"As the charge of insubordination is particular to authority and rank within the Guard, this charge will be set aside. In the event our investigation suggests that Kyminn Danner did, in fact, act in a manner that was inappropriate, insubordinate, or in other ways affected discipline, the charge will be referred to the Healer's Circle for review."

The next few charges were more of the same, accusations that Kyminn had trained horses against Captain Rath's wishes. Kyminn was a trifle surprised at how very many ways the Captain had found to accuse Kyminn. He hadn't known there were so many ways to say "You did something and I didn't like it": _Conduct contrary to good order and discipline, misuse of personnel, misuse of guard materiel, issuing an unlawful command, disobedience of a lawful command, failure in the performance of one's duty_ …All told, there were fourteen charges in that single area alone.

Randen set that page aside. "Those are the minor charges." _That_ caused Kyminn to stiffen in his chair. For the first time, he began to wonder if he'd somehow actually acted wrongly.

"The minor charges will all be referred to Healers if required. The next set of charges apply to both the Guard and civilian alike." The Herald chose his next few words with great care. "It has recently been announced that the nation of Valdemar expects Karse to declare war in the near future. The nature of the expected opponent – the Tedrel mercenaries – has also been made public. Captain Rath is aware of the fact that Healer Danner knew about these details when the Healer was posted to Warford. Captain Rath alleges that Healer Danner was fully aware of the risks and the level of alert. In the Captain's judgement, the Healer's actions under the condition of heightened risk must be considered more severe than were they to have occurred during peacetime.

"As a result, the Captain has specified that the next set of charges be presented under the highest level of severity, namely that of treason." The Herald was very carefully not meeting Kyminn's eyes.

"The Captain has presented the case to his superior, Major Silas. The Major has agreed to sustain this level of charge."

A cascade of ice water flooded through Kyminn, congealing in his belly. He almost didn't hear Tysen's chopped off gasp of shock. Major Silas agreed? Kyminn's head spun. Surely the Captain had skewed the information. It simply wasn't possible that a reasoned review of the situation would see Kyminn's actions as _treasonous_!

There was a pause while everyone processed this information. From the expressions on the two colonel's faces, they had already been aware of this fact. Kyminn searched for some suggestion as to their thoughts, but they were maddeningly opaque.

A brief clearing of the throat and Randen read the charges. It was a small comfort that there was only a half dozen this time. Apparently, the Captain was of the opinion that since the penalty for treason was death and they could only hang Kyminn once, that would be sufficient. Kyminn wasn't surprised to hear _Intentionally causing injury to men or mounts of the King's Guard_ and _Interference with a person performing a lawful military duty_ on the list.

Randen let the scribe finish her scratching. This time, he _did_ meet Kyminn's gaze and his look pleaded with Kyminn to do…something…by Kyminn had no idea what. A faint tensing of the Herald's muscles and a faint, warning shake of the head were the only notice Kyminn got.

"The final charge," and Randen kept his voice flat and steady, "Misuse of Gifts."

"WHAT!" Kyminn screamed and leapt to his feet. Never, ever in his life had he felt such rage, known he was capable of such scorching anger. He was alternately hot and cold, his whole body shaking with action held in abeyance. Horror at the depth of the charge consumed him, although he couldn't have said he was surprised that the Captain would have leveled the accusation.

"Sit down!" Randen's voice was a whip crack. "You will SIT DOWN!" The two colonels were tense in their seats, prepared to restrain the shuddering Healer.

Fingers spasmed on the table as Kyminn shook. With a muffled, inarticulate cry, he dropped down into his seat, shivering, swaying. Blackness swirled around the edges of his vision, threatening to send him spinning to the floor.

Cool hands on his temples and the darkness withdrew, the lancing pain melting away. Tysen's voice seemed to come from a distance, as though Kyminn were hearing it from the bottom of a well. "Herald Randen! Can we have some time, please!"

Randen seemed grateful at the Healer's request. "We will take a half-candlemark recess. Kyminn Danner will remain here, under the care of Healer Carrell. The escort will remain in the hall should Healer Carrell require anything. No one," his looked pointedly at Tysen, "will discuss anything that has occurred this afternoon."

Kyminn withdrew into numbness, his thoughts skittering about like autumn leaves. He didn't even protest when Tysen made him drink the bitter restorative, although he was unable to swallow the bits of bread and cheese that Tysen pressed into his hand.

Precisely at the half-candlemark, the others filed silently into the room. At Tysen's nod, Randen rapped on the table once more.

"Healer Carrell, is Kyminn Danner well enough to continue?" It was formal.

"He is, provided there are no other incidents like that one," the tone was warning.

"This next portion will be relatively quick and should not be difficult. Healer Danner, in your own words, please tell us – in very general terms – what your orders were and what you have been doing since your arrival." A cautioning hand, "We don't need details, those will come later when you make a detailed statement. All we want for the time being is your perspective on what has been going on."

Kyminn tried to still his racing thoughts. Finally, haltingly, he explained. "I was assigned to help train warhorses. My gifts of Animal Empathy and Animal Mindspeech mean that I can _tell_ the animals what to do. This is something that I've done before, successfully. Under the direction of Captain Nikki Ashkevron, we were able to train several dozen horses to a point where they were ready for deployment. In terms of the training manual, this was about Step four or five of Level Two training." Kyminn paused to look at the colonels and they both nodded to indicate they understood what he was describing.

On surer ground now, Kyminn continued. "Normally, this process takes seven or eight sennights. Using my Gifts, we were able to manage it in a fortnight." Colonel Hawrelak straightened at this, his expression calculating.

"When I arrived, I presented my orders to Major Silas and Captain Rath. I explained to both of them what we had accomplished and what my understanding of my orders was." Kyminn was very careful in his next words. "I told Captain Rath that my job was to support his training objectives, a tool to assist him in accomplishing them."

"And his response?" For the first time that afternoon, Colonel Hawrelak spoke, voice harsh from years of bellowing orders over the sound of hoofbeats.

"He told me I was not to use Animal Mindspeech on any horse undergoing training. I was not to use Animal Empathy to, in his words, 'make the horses feel good about what they were doing.' I was further instructed to not discuss the state of any horse with its rider aside from matters related to the animal's health. Captain Rath very clearly told me to avoid the trainees wherever possible." Kyminn's voice was cool.

"Did you obey those orders?" Randen leaned forward intently.

"Herald Randen, I obeyed those orders to the letter. I did not bespeak any horse that was undergoing training or assigned a trainee. When I spoke with trainees it was only to discuss the health of the animal and I always made sure there was a witness to those conversations. I did not use my Animal Empathy to make any horse "feel good" about the training." It was cold.

"And yet, here we are." The infantry colonel's voice was a deep bass, distant and severe.

"And yet here we are. My instructions from Herald Talamir and Dean Tannel were to train horses. So, I did. I trained a _lot_ of horses. I did _NOT_ train any animal that I wasn't allowed to train. I did not speak to trainees about their animals. I did, however, speak to their trainers. I let the trainers know when a horse and rider were a poor match. I told the trainers when a horse didn't need a martingale, she needed her rider to address the reason she was head-shy. Because I could tell the trainers when the horses were at their limits, they were able to push training further or back off when needed. The result was that the horses were _never_ overstressed and developed a higher level of trust in their riders. It was the reason the training was ahead of schedule." He tried not to growl, but it was hard!

Randen turned to the two Guard officers, his expression a question. "Well?"

The two colonels exchanged glances and Hawrelak spoke first. "We came here to assess training. Our units will be stationed here within the next two moons and we're entering a period of intense training. We all know what's coming. The initial reports we got were promising – training _is_ ahead of schedule and the men seem to be trained to a high standard." The colonel waved a hand, "We expected the usual 'dog and pony' show and demonstration. I'm even the inspecting officer for the graduation. What we did _not_ expect is to find injured beasts and a Healer in custody. We certainly did expect to find a base commander and his training officer charging a Healer with treason! My question is, how, by the Three, did the situation get to this point?"

Landen shook his head, terse, angry. "Something is broken. Whether the actions of this Healer caused it or exposed it, that's something we need to determine. You probably haven't noticed, Herald, but Hawrelak and I have. In the past day since this man was arrested, camp discipline has started to take a nose dive. Healer Carrell, how many injuries do you usually see from fighting?"

Surprised at being suddenly dragged into the discussion, Tysen sat up straight. "Not very many actually. One or two after paydays or when the fellows get leave in town. Their squad leaders keep them pretty busy."

"And yesterday?" Colonel Landen's eyes glinted.

"Two, actually, but that happens sometimes," Tysen admitted. "It might not mean anything."

Landen nodded, "You're right, it might not. And then again, it might. Word that a Healer thumbed his nose at the Training Officer's orders has half the camp thinking he's a hero and the other half wanting to string him up."

Kyminn paled. He wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

"It's clear to me, at least," Landen looked at the other two, "That this issue is much bigger than just one man. How did it get this far? Were there others involved in this clandestine training? What, exactly has been happening here for the past four moons and is one man really the problem here? I think we need to conduct a full investigation and do it soon. Once that's complete, we'll have a very clear idea of what charges should be applied, and to whom."

Randen got the nod of assent from the cavalry colonel. He then turned his attention back to Kyminn. "Healer Danner. Your actions, and the actions of other persons, will be investigated by myself, Colonel Hawrelak and Colonel Landen. As I stand as both a representative of the Heraldic Circle and, in this matter, the Lord Marshall's representative, I will hold the deciding vote on this tribunal. The two colonels will serve as advisors and as voting members of the tribunal. I can, however, overrule their votes and will do so if I feel necessary. I will warn you, though, that I will judge where the evidence leads me. That includes overruling a verdict of innocent if I feel you are, in fact, guilty."

A deep silence. Kyminn finally said, "And if I choose otherwise?"

"In this circumstance, you cannot choose to not have Herald's judgement. Nor can you request another Herald. The two colonels, however, _do_ have that option, given that you and I are known to be friends."

The two colonels conferred briefly, then Landen spoke. "Herald Randen, will you impose the Truth Spell on this man and any other witnesses we ask?"

"I will," Randen averred.

The two looked at each other and Hawrelak shrugged. "Heralds have a reputation for honesty. We're willing to abide by that. The only other request we have is that, in the event you overrule us, we can ask to have the case sent to another Herald. Just in case. Frankly, Herald, this case could upend this entire camp and we don't want anyone to question the outcome."

Randen nodded. "Agreed." He looked back at Kyminn. "Since Healer Danner seems to be a spark in this tinder, I don't think he can be released to wander the camp. On the other hand, he has a past record of being honest and trustworthy. If there are no objections, I am going to suggest that he does not need to remain in custody, but that he is confined to his quarters until the investigation is complete. Any objections?

There were none. Kyminn was free at last. Sort of.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The next two days were busy ones. Kyminn spent several candlemarks with the tribunal as they recorded his statement. For the most part, the panel simply listened as he described his decisions and activities of the previous moons. On the second day, the panel returned with a series of questions, mostly related to others who might have been involved, or clarification of a particular event. Kyminn answered them to the best of his ability, trying to present a balanced account.

His part finished, Kyminn went back to his room and waited. He had the two dogs for company, but little else. Aside from the silent constable who delivered his meals, Kyminn's only visitor was Tysen. The Healer visited at least three times per day to check on Kyminn and make sure the dogs were exercised. Neither of them discussed the investigation or anything else going on in the camp.

For his part, Kyminn made only two requests of the Healer. The first was an assurance that Bryce was not to visit. It was probably too late for the corporal to distance himself from the situation, but there was no need to make things worse. The second request was that Tysen check on Kyminn's horses. With Kyminn still recovering from overexerting his Gifts, Kyminn was unable to do so himself. In his heart of hearts, Kyminn didn't think that any cavalry soldier had it in him to retaliate against Kyminn through the horses, but he couldn't help asking Tysen to check. It was a small bright spot when Tysen reported the animals were fine.

Days dragged. An assortment of books was dropped off, but Kyminn couldn't find the focus to read them. He paced. He played with and groomed the dogs. He exercised until he was exhausted. Mostly, he tried not to obsess on what was happening outside his room.

After yet another unsuccessful attempt to distract himself with a complex history text, Kyminn was grateful when Tysen interrupted his thoughts. Kyminn was instantly wary – midmorning was not when Tysen generally visited. Adding to Kyminn's concern was the Healer's distinctly odd expression.

"Kyminn, you seem to have…er…a visitor…" The puzzlement in Tysen's tone would have been comical if the situation weren't so alarming.

"Okay…bring him or her in."

"That's not going to work. Your visitor is the Herald's horse." Tysen gave a vague wave.

"Derris!" Kyminn shot to his feet, then added, automatically, "He's a Companion. He's not a horse." Fingers fumbled with haste as Kyminn donned his jacket. "Where is he?"

"Just outside your room." Tysen stepped away to let Kyminn pass.

"Derris!" Kyminn couldn't contain his delight at seeing the Companion. Belatedly, it occurred to Kyminn that Derris might be there to somehow cushion bad news, but the Companion's body language said otherwise.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see another friendly face. Would you mind terribly if I gave you a hug?" It felt like Kyminn hadn't smiled in days.

Derris simply walked forward, nudging the Healer with a velvet nose. Powerful muscles tightened as the Companion took on the weight of the Healer clinging to his neck.

"Thank you Derris. How did you know?" It was a whisper, tears soaking the Companion's hide.

They stood there for several moments, Kyminn drawing strength from the Companion's silent presence. Finally, Kyminn scrubbed his cheeks and, reluctantly, unclasped his arms. "Two years," Kyminn whispered, deliberately injecting humour into his voice. "Two years and the only thing you ever say to me is to tell me to shut up? There's a Companion for you!"

The snort, although equine, was decidedly sarcastic. Kyminn stepped back, releasing Derris. "Thank you. Just…thank you."

Derris nodded and turned to the groom waiting off to one side, an ear cocked forward. The groom, out of habit, reached up to grab the Companion's halter but withdrew his hand at the last minute. With a sheepish look, the groom simply took up station at Derris' shoulder and escorted the Companion back towards the stable.

Kyminn glanced at Tysen, then at the groom. "Why the groom? Don't tell me they don't trust Companions!"

Tysen gave Kyminn a peculiar look, but shrugged. "According to the groom, the ho…Companion agreed to the escort. After a day of cavalry troopers dutifully trying to capture the 'loose horse' it just became easier for someone to go with him." He watched the retreating pair. "I saw a few Companions while I was in training, but it always surprises me how intelligent they seem."

A short bark of laughter. "Not 'seem', my friend! Think of them as people with four legs and you'd be accurate. Include a pathological addiction to being mysterious along with an equally deep streak of sarcasm and you've got a Companion."

A few yards away, Derris stopped suddenly and turned his head back towards Kyminn. An ear twitched and then, with careful deliberation, one rear foot flicked back, launching a clump of snow and mud in Kyminn's direction. The Healer didn't move, and the gobbet splashed down just in front of the Healer's feet. Kyminn simply grinned at the Companion, who snorted and gave a half buck before resuming his journey.

Tysen looked from the Companion to the clump in front of Kyminn. "That was intentional, wasn't it?"

"Of course," Kyminn grinned. "And if he'd wanted to, he'd have planted it between my eyes."

Tysen looked thoughtful, and simply gestured for Kyminn to return to his quarters.

 _SCENE BREAK_

It took eight days for the investigation to conclude. Kyminn wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. His mind conjured endless possibilities and permutations; all of which served only to add to his funk. At supper on the eighth day, Kyminn finally received a message from the tribunal. They had gathered all the information they felt they needed and the formal hearing would begin the following morning.

Kyminn dressed with meticulous care, ensuring he was shaved, scrubbed and wearing his best Greens. When the constable came to escort him, he was ready. To Kyminn's surprise, they did not return to the small room in the headquarters building. Instead, Kyminn was steered towards the dining hall.

The space had been transformed. A long table rested at one end with smaller tables flanking each end. Two desks for scribes were set against one wall while the rest of the space was given over to rows of benches. Clearly, this was to be a public hearing.

Kyminn was directed to one of the tables, the constable taking up station off to one side. As soon as Kyminn was seated, the camp's residents filtered into the benches. Kyminn recognized some of the faces and, as near as he could tell, the crowd was made up of guardsmen and civilians of many ranks. It was disconcerting to see how many people had come to observe. As the doors closed, Kyminn could see disappointed would-be attendees as they were turned away.

The crowd had barely settled when a guardsman rapped a spear butt on the floor. At the signal, everyone rose, Kyminn following with them. The panel filed in and took their seats at the large table. Randen did not meet Kyminn's gaze, although both of the colonels glanced in his direction.

Kyminn's testimony was the first to be presented. At Colonel Landen's nod, Randen's eyes became unfocused for a moment. Kyminn, of course, wasn't able to see the blue glow of the Truth Spell, but the gasps and murmurs from the crowd were clear enough.

Once again, Kyminn told his story. He presented his background in the training of horses and how he had used his Gifts to enhance the process. He read aloud his orders from Talamir and Tannel, confirming that he had, in fact received and understood the documents. Kyminn then described, as neutrally as he could, the initial meetings with both Major Silas and Captain Rath. The blue glow only wavered once, when Kyminn tried to be tactful regarding that first meeting with Rath.

Colonel Hawrelak was quick to follow up on that flicker. "Please restate, as accurately as possible, your first reaction to the Captain."

Kyminn tried not to squirm, but complied. "I was shocked that he wouldn't listen. I _hoped_ that time and results would bring him around, but I wasn't optimistic. I wasn't sure how to order him to obey a Herald. I just…had never expected that he wouldn't listen."

Someone in the crowd tittered at this and the Colonel threw them a quelling look. He nodded for Kyminn to continue.

Kyminn went on to describe what he had done with respect to training the remounts, providing insights via his Animal Empathy and all that had been accomplished. The recitation took several candlemarks and continued after a break for lunch.

Finally, by midafternoon, they got to the grist of the matter. Colonel Landen questioned Kyminn closely on matters related to the specific charges. The blue glow never wavered.

"Apart from the incident on the drill field, on ninth day of this month, did you use the gift of Animal Mindspeech on any horse undergoing training?"

"No, I did not." Kyminn sat straight in his seat, meeting the colonel's gaze eye for eye.

"Apart from the incident on the drill field, on the ninth day of this month, did you disobey any order given you by Captain Rath."

"I did not disobey any order that he gave me. I will admit that I acted outside his orders and chose not to inform him of this fact. In doing so, I believed then – and still believe – that I was carrying out the orders given me by Herald Talamir and Dean Tannel."

And so it went. Finally, about a candlemark after the normal time for supper, Colonel Landen wound down.

"If the other members of the panel have no other questions, I move that we recess for the day. Tomorrow morning we will speak to the events of the ninth of this month." Three thumps from the spear and the tribunal rose, filing out silently.

Somewhat to Kyminn's surprise, his questioner the next morning was neither of the Guard colonels. Instead, it was Randen himself.

"Healer Danner, can you please tell the tribunal a bit about the gift of Foresight; how it works and how it is trained?"

A bit taken aback, Kyminn nonetheless responded promptly. "The Gift of Foresight is considered one of the least reliable gifts. Not because the visions are untrue, but because the Gift itself doesn't lend itself to control the way other do. If someone is using the Healing gift, for example, he can choose when, where, and to how much he wants to use the gift. It's like having a pitcher of ale – you are the one holding the handle and you can decide if you want to pour and how much. Pour too much and you waste it and you've emptied your pitcher."

Chuckles and nods greeted this explanation, but Randen ignored them. He simply said, "And how is Foresight different?"

"You don't control Foresight. It's not a pitcher of ale, its…" he thought for a moment before he continued. "It's your neighbor flinging open your door and shouting random phrases at you. Then he slams the door and disappears."

"What sort of things does Foresight 'shout' then?" Randen prodded.

"It varies from person to person. Some people get very clear images of events, like a stage play right in front of them. Others just get impressions, smells, feelings. Foresight can also be very specific. Any village that's ever had a weather witch – that's a form of Foresight. I once read about someone who could only Foresee when a given seed would sprout. Very specific and hard to make use of." Kyminn looked over the crowd and continued his explanation.

"I Foresee animals. My images never contain people, only beasts. Also, I only Foresee if an animal is going to get injured, so don't ask me when your dog's going to whelp because I can't see that." A twisted grimace. "When I have a Foresight, it's because an animal – with a person involved – is going to get injured. Sometimes I can tell which animal it is, and I sometimes know where it's going to happen."

"Does your Foresight tell you when?"

Kyminn nodded. "Sometimes. I've been getting Foresights about the war for over a year now. I was able to tell that the events were a long, long time off and would happen in the summertime. Other times, I know that the accident is going to happen soon, or immediately. When that happens, it can be a question of only a few minutes."

"Have you every accurately used your Foresight to prevent or alter events?" Randen's look was faintly ironic.

"Twice." At the Herald's gesture, Kyminn explained. "Two years ago, I saw a white horse caught in a mudslide. I knew it would happen soon and that the horse would be very badly injured or killed. I ran, to try and get there in time, but partway there the Foresight cut off. That's when I knew the accident had happened."

"What did you do then?"

Kyminn's look was wryly ironic, but he continued the tale. "I found a horse, and his rider, caught in a ravine. The horse turned out to be a Companion and he was badly injured, impaled by a branch through his chest. I sent for help and we were able to save both the Companion and his Herald."

"For which Derris and I are extremely grateful." Randen paused to let the ripple of surprise die down. "I asked you about this event because I wanted the record to show that your Foresight has been accurate in the past and that you have been able to act on the information. I'd like you to go ahead and describe the second incident please."

Kyminn took a deep breath. "I Foresaw a fire. I saw a few, vague horses, but mostly I saw a Companion running down an alley. I saw flame, explosion. I saw…" his voice was anguished, "I saw the Companion die."

"What happened, Kyminn?" Randen used his name for the first time.

"I told Herald Keren. I told her to tell the Herald not to go there, not to turn down that alley. I told her that the danger wasn't in the fire, that it was nearby and they needed to be careful. Keren and her Companion Dantris sent the warning out. The Herald _didn't_ go down that alley. They were saved." He looked back to the crowd, his tone rough with remembered sorrow. "But I was right too. _That_ Companion and her Herald didn't go down the alley. They survived. But another Herald, he and his Companion were caught in the explosion. They were both killed. Their names were Jannen and Niko, and they were my friends."

A moan of dismay echoed through the crowd and Colonel Hawrelak ended up rapping on the table of silence. "So your Foresight let you change the outcome, but it didn't show you everything, didn't let you prevent everything."

"No, it didn't." Softly.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They took a recess after that, a chance for the panel to confer and consider. Kyminn remained at the table, sipping water to wet a mouth suddenly parched. When Randen rapped the gavel, the crowd was silent before the echo of the first rap had faded.

"We will now address the events of the ninth of this month, the incident at the drill field and the alleged misuse of gifts." It was Hawrelak's turn to preside. "Healer Danner, tell us what happened that day."

Kyminn told the story, beginning with the injured horse in the stable and followed by Captain Rath's subsequent order that Kyminn remain in attendance on the Captain. Hawrelak questioned Kyminn closely as to whether or not Kyminn had used any Gifts, or had any conversations with the Captain during this period.

Kyminn then described the Foresight, how he'd seen the horses tangle, known that the dun mare was going to shy and go down. He told the panel he'd Seen at least two horses die and knew that others would be injured. He didn't hold back when he described his frustration at Captain Rath's dismissal of the warning, how the Captain had ordered Kyminn to remain silent.

He went on to describe, as best he could, what he had done next: using voice and Mindspeech to slow and turn the horses, how he'd used Mindspeech and Animal Healing to flex muscles and turn beasts aside, how he'd thrown every drop of his energy to preventing the accident.

"Let the record show that the following injuries were recorded as a result of Healer Danner's actions: five horses with bruises and muscle strains; one trooper with a wrenched shoulder, a second with a badly bruised thigh from a glancing kick. One horse went down, resulting in torn and bruised front knees." He paused and cleared his throat before continuing, "Healers Mennis and Carrell attended the injuries. All men and horses have since fully recovered."

Kyminn didn't even realize that he'd sagged with relief at hearing this.

"This panel will now call Major Silas as a witness." The side door opened and the Major came in. Kyminn hadn't seen the man close up since their initial meeting several moons before. The man seemed oddly sad and withdrawn. Silently, the major took a seat at the table across from Kyminn. He met the Healer's gaze briefly, affording him a short, ironic nod. It was Kyminn's first opportunity to see the Truth Spell in action and his eyes widened a bit as the blue glow surrounded the Major.

The Major's testimony was initially straightforward as the Major confirmed that yes, the Major had met with Kyminn and was aware of the Healer's orders. Interestingly, the Major disavowed all knowledge of Captain Rath's subsequent restrictions. The glow remained a steady, cerulean blue.

"Major Silas, did you receive updates on the progress of training?" Colonel Hawrelak had the gavel now.

"I regularly received a variety of reports. The training report was among them. Captain Rath submitted them once every fortnight, or sooner if he felt it necessary."

"And did Captain Rath feel it necessary to report any changes or concerns to you during this time?"

The Major shook his head. "He did not. The only item out of the ordinary in his reports was a notice that things were going better than expected. The Captain and I had a meeting where we subsequently mapped out which areas to advance, given the additional time available."

"I see. Did the Captain offer any explanation as to why things were going so well?"

"No sir, he did not. I assumed that it was due to Healer Danner's contribution and I was pleased to see the added progress. I admit," and he looked at Kyminn, "that I was a trifle disappointed. The orders that I'd got regarding the Healer led me to expect much more significant gains."

Kyminn stiffened, but said nothing. Hawrelak threw Kyminn a warning glance, but directed the question to Major Silas. "Did you, at any time, ask Captain Rath about Healer Danner or how the Captain was making use of the Healer's gifts?"

"I did not." It was clipped.

"Two final questions then. First, why were you not aware of what role the Healer had taken? Secondly, if you were not aware of what the Healer was doing, why did you sustain the treason charges without investigating their validity?" The questions hung, suspended in the silence.

The Major was careful to meet no-one's gaze. "As to the first question – I trusted Captain Rath. I've known him for several years and always found him to be a steady, if unimaginative officer. His knowledge of training is extensive and his attention to detail has made him an excellent person to oversee training. I'd never had reason to question his judgement.

"The Healer arrived with orders signed by the Heraldic circle. Those orders were later followed by orders from my superiors in the Guard. Both said that Healer Danner was an asset and should be used as part of the training program. I assumed that Captain Rath had done so."

The Major locked eyes with Kyminn, before glancing away, ashamed. "I knew Captain Rath. Men and horses had been injured. When the Captain laid out the charges, I had no reason to think they were overstated. Of course there would be an investigation and I decided that the charges could be reduced later if the facts supported the change. It is now my belief that the charges were, in fact, overstated."

Kyminn closed his eyes in momentary relief, but snapped them open again when the Major's chair scraped. The Major climbed slowly to his feet. "With the panel's permission, I'd like to present a document into the record?"

Randen nodded and the major made his way to the front. He saluted the panel and withdrew a sealed letter from inside his tunic, laying it carefully before the Herald. A final salute and the Major returned to his desk, seated stiffly at attention.

Randen broke the seal and the other two leaned forward, reading over his shoulders. Randen's expression was neutral, the colonels' grimly satisfied. After a whispered consultation, Randen banged the gravel again. "We will consider your request at the conclusion of the hearing. In the meantime, we have no further questions for you. You are dismissed."

The Major sprang to his feet and marched from the room, eyes straight ahead. Kyminn watched him go until the gavel pulled his attention back to the tribunal.

"This panel calls Captain Rath."

Kyminn had expected the Captain to be in his best spit-and-polish uniform and Captain didn't disappoint. Like the Major had been, the Captain wore his dress blues, rank and service medals glinting on his chest. But where the Major's uniform was probably the best he owned, the Captains was shabbier, his second best perhaps. Kyminn wondered if it was a subtle snub or meant nothing whatsoever.

Unlike the Major, the Captain had no difficulty meeting Kyminn's gaze, a faint, supercilious snarl on his face.

The Truth Spell didn't waver when the Captain recounted his version of the meeting with Kyminn. He even agreed, almost proudly, with Kyminn's recollection of the language the Captain had used. The Captain willingly and honestly described the orders he had given Kyminn, although there was a faint dimming during that part.

Colonel Landen led the questioning this time, perhaps because he was the least invested of the three on the panel. "Captain Rath, did you use Healer Danner's gifts in your training program?"

"Not intentionally, no." That was a sour grunt. Before Landen could press for clarification, the Captain continued. "Had I known that he was using his Animal Empathy I would have told him to stop."

The panel exchanged startled glances. Clearly they hadn't expected the Captain to be so bald.

"Captain Rath, you were ordered to use this man as part of your training program. Yet you also ordered him not to use his one of his Gifts, and you've just testified that you would stopped him from using another. How is this not a violation of your own orders?" The infantry colonel looked honestly perplexed.

"My orders were to make the best possible use of this man and his Gifts. It was my _experienced judgement_ " and the Captain shot daggers at Kyminn, "that I was doing so. I've been in the Guard for 19 years now and I've been the training officer at this camp for the past nine. There's nothing this person can teach me about training horses." Rath would have gone on, but Hawrelak held up a hand to forestall him.

"Captain Rath, did Healer Danner, at any time, try to, or suggest to you, that he was going to tell you how to conduct your training program?"

"No, but that's because I stopped him from doing so." Abruptly, the blue glow vanished, causing a brief outcry from the audience.

"If I may, colonel?" Kyminn said, diffidently. At the colonel's nod, Randen focused his attention on Kyminn once again. Kyminn waited until he got confirmation that the Truth Spell was in place before he spoke.

"I specifically told the Captain that I was _NOT_ going to tell him how to run his training program. It may be his belief, however, that his orders to me prevented me from doing so." Kyminn sat down again.

Blue surrounded the Captain once again and Landen repeated the question. "Do you believe your orders prevented Healer Danner from overriding your training plan?"

The Captain started to answer hotly, but stopped, phrasing his words carefully. "I believe that Healer Danner's involvement would have changed my training plan. I believe that his presence would have – in the short and long term – had a detrimental effect on how we conduct training. My orders were intended prevent those sorts of changes. I submit that Healer Danner's subsequent actions justifies my concern."

Kyminn wondered if he was the only one who noted that Rath had not, in fact answered the question.

"Explain to us, if you will, Captain, the nature of your concerns regarding the Healer's input?" Finally, the question Kyminn most wanted answered.

"We train warhorses based on centuries of knowledge and practice. It comes of men working with the beasts, discovering what works and then passing their knowledge on. At some point in the decades past, we started keeping a record, saying 'these are the steps to make a horse do _this'_ or 'here's how to correct it when a horse does _that'_. We need to know these things."

"This man here," the look was thick with disdain, "He doesn't believe in what we do. He doesn't believe in tried and true, proven practices. He wants shortcuts, he wants to cheat. What happens when he's not around to meddle with the horses? To put thoughts into their heads? How will the men know how to properly train a horse if he does all the work for them? On the battlefield, maybe a man's mount goes down and he has to grab a comrade's horse instead. This man, he won't be there to tell the horse that it's all right, to tell the beast what to do. That's the rider's job. He's got to know how to manage a beast, to train it and work with it. This man would weaken our men and our horses, and I won't allow that."

Kyminn couldn't help it. His jaw dropped and he saw he wasn't the only one. Perhaps the saddest and most shocking part of all was that the Truth Spell remained a bright, smooth blue throughout the entire diatribe. The Captain was truly convinced that Kyminn's Gifts were a danger to all the Captain held dear.

"Captain Rath, did you test the training of the remounts that Healer Danner trained? And if so, what were your findings?" Hawrelak seemed willing to offer the Captain a chance to redeem the Captain's opinions of Kyminn's techniques.

"I did. Myself, several of the trainers and grooms tested the training of several of the horses. Colonel Hawrelak and Major Silas were present as witnesses."

"And, for the record, tell us what you found," Hawrelak invited.

"The horses were trained to Level Two, Step Four of the manual. Some of the mounts were at Step Five. BUT, the grooms admitted to me that they took over the training after Danner did his meddling, so I have to give any credit for their training to the proper source. Those horses at Step Five, I could tell they were being meddled with. Mindspeech works from a distance, everyone knows that. He was probably controlling the horses the whole time." The last was pure venom.

Given that Kyminn had been completely unable to use his Gifts at the time in question, the allegation was breathtaking in its ignorance.

The three men on the tribunal conferred again. This time, the discussion was more drawn out and, judging from some of the expressions, considerably more heated. Finally, Randen rapped the gavel again.

"Thank you for your insights Captain. We have only one or two more questions at this point. Can you please describe to us your version of the events on the drill field on the ninth day past?"

Captain Rath's account matched Kyminn's own, with the addition of a bizarre perspective on the nature of Foresight. At the conclusion, Randen rapped the gavel once again.

"Thank you Captain Rath, you are free to go." The Herald waited until the door closed behind the Captain before looking at the other members of the tribunal. "We had a number of other witnesses we were going to examine. These were persons who witnessed or may have been thought to have participated in Healer Danner's training activities. At this point, however, we feel we have all the information we need to render our decision. The sworn statements will be added to the record for the purposes of thoroughness, but the witnesses are free to go. It is presently," Randen glanced at the time candle, "the third hour of the afternoon. This panel will now adjourn to consider and we will recall the principles once that process is complete. There will be no further hearings today." The gavel rapped again and the members quietly departed.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn had thought that he would finally sleep well once the testimony had all been presented. Aside from a confidence that he – probably – wasn't going to hang for treason, he really had no idea what his future might hold. He was cautiously optimistic that the majority of the charges wouldn't be sustained, but given the stink he'd caused, he figured that _something_ would end up sticking. Stink was like that.

The call to reconvene came mid-morning and the line to get into the dining hall seemed to contain every soldier, civilian and contractor in the camp. In spite of the crowd, the whole scene was eerily silent. Those that couldn't get in peered through any door or window they could find.

"This hearing is now called to order." The crowd rose until the panel was seated. Only faint rustles indicated that the room was packed to capacity. At a gesture from the constable, Kyminn rose to his feet.

"I will make this simple," Randen smoothed the documents in front of him. "It is the unanimous finding of this tribunal that all charges against Healer Kyminn Danner are to be dropped. Further, they will be stricken from his record. All documents pertaining to this hearing will be held in the closed Archive until such time as the Heraldic Circle chooses to release them."

Kyminn swayed where he stood, bracing his hands on the table to steady himself. It took the constables several minutes to restore order to the room.

"Kyminn Danner was given two conflicting sets of orders. Like the two women who fought over the lamb, he attempted to play the wise king and cut the lamb in half. This hearing is the result of his decision.

"Captain Rath acted under the belief that he was obeying his orders. As a result, no criminal action will result. His behaviour, on the other hand, will result in an administrative review." The gavel rapped once. "That concludes this part of the hearing. You," the gavel pointed at Kyminn, "Stay. All other witnesses, except for the scribes, leave. Have Major Silas and Captain Rath brought in. The military portion of this hearing will now begin."

There was something to be said for military discipline. The room cleared remarkably quickly, although not without a great deal of chatter. At Randen's gesture, Kyminn resumed his chair. Rath and Silas were fetched, seated together at the second table.

Colonel Landen took up the gavel. "Captain Rath. You brought charges against this man based on the fact that you believed that he had circumvented the orders you gave him. Yet, by your own admission, you knowingly circumvented the intent of orders you had received from your acknowledged superiors. You can't have it both ways, Captain. He has the admittedly weak excuse that he's a civilian and didn't know where to go for clarification. You don't even have that excuse.

"Captain, you have demonstrated an appalling degree of ignorance with respect to Gifts. That, in of itself is not a problem. That you were instructed to make use of them and then actively avoided all opportunities to correct that ignorance demonstrates an appalling lack of judgement. You could have resolved this matter at any time, but willfully refused to do so.

"By itself, your actions would require us to apply administrative discipline. However, the situation is compounded by the malicious and excessive nature of the charges you leveled against Kyminn Danner. As a result, your administrative punishment will also be compounded. You are hereby stripped of two degrees of rank, although you will retain your commission. Further, you will be transferred out of the cavalry and into the foot. Clearly, your belief that you know better than anyone else on the subject of horses has made you a danger to those around you. Therefore, you will learn a new trade, that of the infantry officer. You are being given a chance to start over, 2nd Lieutenant Rath. See that you make the most of it." The gavel thudded once, cracking emphasis to the ruling.

Rath was too shocked to respond, simply stumbling numbly to the door. Landen sighed and regarded Major Silas. The colonel withdrew a letter from the stack of papers and Kyminn recognized the letter the Major had presented the day prior.

"Major Silas. While it is true that you did not disobey, or circumvent your orders, all of this occurred under your command. Your letter accurately points out that, had you paid greater attention to the training reports, or, more significantly, investigated the charges before sustaining them, then the situation would never have reached this point. We have to say that we concur with your conclusions.

"What occurred here can only be described as a gross failure of leadership. In your letter, you offer your resignation from the Guard. We have discussed it, and we decline your resignation.

"However," and his tone was regretful, "You will be removed from command of this base and, I would expect, never experience any such command again. You are, of course, free to resign from the Guard as a whole, but your interviews with us, and the self-honesty demonstrated in this letter, suggest an able man who may yet be of service. Don't get me wrong Major, we're still going to throw the book at you. Should you choose to remain, it will be as a Captain, with immediate posting to a line unit. Somehow though, I don't see you ever taking anyone under your command for granted ever again." He paused. "We will give you two days to make up your mind."

The Major saluted, his face blank. His about-face, if a bit wobbly, was precise as he marched himself out.

As the door closed behind the former base commander, the mood in the room shifted. At a nod from Hawrelak, the scribes quickly took their tools and departed. Hawrelak beckoned for Kyminn to take a seat across from their table. Kyminn did so, cautiously.

"And what are we supposed to do with you?" Randen sighed.

Kyminn couldn't help it, he shrank down in his chair and gave a tiny shrug.

"Kyminn, this…just…you've made quite a mess here, you know that?" It was weary.

"Hold on there, Herald, it's not completely the lad's fault," to Kyminn's surprise, it was Colonel Landen who came to his defense.

"You Heralds sent this fellow here with responsibility, but no authority whatsoever. I can't fault him for not thinking to appeal to Silas. Nor can I exactly fault him for not reaching out to Talamir. Granted, I'm sure that he's got at least a _few_ friends or relations that he could have turned to for guidance. Worst case, he could have kicked up a fuss and gotten some outside attention."

"He did," Randen was dry. "Look how that turned out."

A snort greeted this remark. "You know what I mean, Herald. Everything was fine so long as everyone was doing what they were supposed to do, but once Rath entered the picture, this poor fellow was left swinging in the wind."

"I know." Randen gave Kyminn a look of profound apology. "You do have a way of finding problems that nobody knew existed, don't you?"

"I don't do it on purpose," Kyminn said meekly, rubbing the scar on his arm in memory.

"No, you're just the tinder. Which brings us back to the beginning. What are we going to do with you?"

"There's not much point in sending him back to Haven," Hawrelak pointed out. "By the time he gets there it'll be spring and he'd just have to turn around and ride for the Karsite border."

"There's a cavalry unit in the Jaysong hills, he could work with them for the rest of the winter," Randen said thoughtfully. The fact that it would also allow Captain Ashkevron supervise Kyminn made the notion doubly attractive.

Landen shot that one down. "Most of those troops are already on their way here or further south, to around Sweetsprings. There's a temporary camp there and they'll be in place as a rapid deployment force."

"I'll keep him," Hawrelak sighed. "Until the Lord Marshal says otherwise, it looks like I'm going to be the next base commander here. I've got date of rank over Landen here _and_ it's a cavalry base. Unlike Rath, I have no prejudices against using Gifts to advance training. Trust me, he'll be far, far too tired to make trouble."

"He's a pretty polarizing figure right now," Landen pointed out.

"For now, yes." Hawrelak acknowledged. "But the population of this camp will more than double in the next fortnight. That's going to keep people more than busy and pretty soon, he'll be old news. After they see him freezing his bits off on the training field for a few sennights, those that think he got off lightly will decide he's getting what he deserves, and those that think he was justified will see that he's finally allowed to do his job. And pretty soon some drunken trooper will set something on fire and they'll have someone else to talk about." He looked at Kyminn, who knew enough to keep his mouth shut and nod in compliance.

"But," Hawrelak said warningly, "Next spring he goes to a line unit. He's more use there anyway and pretty soon people will have more important things to care about than one misunderstood Healer."

"Done." Randen slapped his hand down on the table. "Let's get out of here."


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N Will anyone think of the mastiffs? Oh! The Humanity!_

Chapter 12

Randen didn't bother to knock, he pushed into Kyminn's room, a wineskin and mugs clutched in one hand. The Herald raised his eyebrow at Kyminn in a silent question and the Healer simply gestured to the small table – where a bottle and glasses waited.

"I see we both had the same idea," the Herald dropped into the second chair with a sigh.

"After the past few days? I should think so." Kyminn uncorked the bottle and poured the amber liquid into the mugs.

"I see you dug out the good stuff. Jannen's?" Randen savoured a sip of the golden honey-pear wine.

A shrug. "It seemed fitting." Kyminn swirled the liquid gently around the glass, his expression pensive. "Good gads Randen, what have I done?"

"You bloody well should have asked for help, for starters." Randen grimaced. "That's partly on us too though. We didn't exactly give you a fallback or a clear chain of command."

"And now two careers are destroyed as a result." Kyminn didn't look up.

Randen took a reflective sip. "Wellin Rath was competent only in so far as he could follow the manual. That degree of rigidity is fine if all you're doing is teaching raw recruits structure and discipline. Anything outside of that and he flounders. I've read the man's record, and it damns with faint praise. Had he been given command of a unit on the battle line, it would have been a disaster."

"If he's so terrible, why didn't you simply kick him out of the Guard?" Kyminn finally looked up.

"Why do you think? Flawed as he is, the man is a soldier and we need soldiers desperately. As a 2nd Lieutenant – an Ensign – he will be very limited in his authority. Since he hasn't had the infantry officer's training yet, he won't have his 'expert' standing to rely on. Hopefully, learning new skills will open his mind a bit."

"It's going to be awfully hard on him. The man is twenty years older than any other ensign and has this black mark against him." Kyminn wasn't sure if he pitied Rath or not, but something compelled him to try to be fair.

A faint smile. "Teach your mother how to suck eggs, why don't you? He won't be the only 'old' ensign in the training, not by a long shot. The Lord Marshall has been very busy in his recruiting efforts and while I wouldn't say that men have been flocking to the banner, we _have_ seen tremendous growth. It's amazing how many young Lords have developed an interest in the Guard." The Herald's tone was dry, "It might have something to do with the notion that if they get the jump on their fellows, they'll have the rank and seniority to throw around later. Early bird gets the worm and all that.

"As to your other question, I've sealed the record. Rath's commanders obviously need to know what's going on, and I'm sure the story will make its way out eventually. But until that happens, he'll have a relatively clean slate." Randen's voice grew quiet. "One of two things is going to happen here. Either Wellin Rath gets over his terror of change and becomes a somewhat decent commander, or he doesn't and is eased out to some place where he's no longer a problem."

A reluctant nod. "And Major Silas?"

"Silas became complacent. He made a dreadful error in judgement – not out of stupidity or malice, but because he failed to pay attention. In many other respects, the man was a sound officer. He was respected by his men and those who served him directly speak highly of him."

Randen shook his head. "Any other commander, on seeing that list of charges coming out of the blue like that would have wondered how on earth it happened. I mean, the charges alleged a situation that had been going on for multiple moons. You, or I, or any other rational person's first response would _NOT_ have been 'My subordinate uncovered a serious problem, I need to lend my weight to it'. No, it would have been 'How on earth did my subordinate miss this? How did _I_ miss this? This has to be investigated immediately!'"

"Do you think he'll stay with the Guard?" Kyminn wondered.

"Hard to say." A Heraldic shrug. "I think so. It's all he knows, really."

The two sipped in silence for a time, each lost in his own thoughts. Before the mood could get too glum, Kyminn spoke up. "I haven't had a chance to ask. How's Derris?"

A faint smile acknowledged the change of subject. "He's fine, and he thanks you for asking. It seems you put a burr under Carrell's saddle and the Healer in turn had a chat with the grooms. Derris reports that they are much better and not treating him like a horse."

"Glad I could do at least something right," it was a snort. "So what happens now?"

"Now," and Randen looked at the angle of the westering sun. "Now I join the senior staff for yet another working supper. As the Lord Marshall's representative, I need to be briefed on the preparations for the coming hordes. As for you…" a sigh. "I'm going to leave behind additional orders, signed under my role as a Herald reporting to the Lord Marshall. This little training plan was just one of the thousand and one ways he's trying to get us ready. It's one of the many things I was asked to look into on this trip. So, I'm going to add a codicil to your orders, confirming that your work here is at the request and under the aegis of both the Lord Marshall _and_ the Heralds. That should make things clear to even the stupidest of dunderheads."

Kyminn winced a bit. "Randen, that's an awfully big hammer. Is that really necessary?"

"Given the past fortnight, I'd say yes. Just…use it sparingly, please?" The last was a (mostly) humorous plea. The Herald rose. "And on that note, I must be off. Derris and I will leave early, so I'll say goodbye now. Try to keep your head down, hmm?"

 _SCENE BREAK_

As Colonel Hawrelak had predicted, Kyminn shortly found himself once again on the ragged end of exhaustion. He was far from the only one, as the population of the camp more than doubled in short order. Warehouses were emptied and converted to temporary barracks, with any goods that were less susceptible to weather being stuffed into barrels and crates for storage under canvas. The act of setting up the canvas tents for the stores revealed broken poles, frayed lacing and mouse chewed panels. In some cases, men were mending seams while the tents were being filled.

Canvas, leather, buckles, grain, horseshoes, men's boots, hoof picks, bandages…the list of things to be found, prepared and cataloged was endless. Bryce and the other stores clerks worked sixteen candlemark days, usually with a team of hastily assigned troopers following them around and frantically trying to write it all down. Of course, moving everything meant trying not to lose anything and an entire room of scribes frantically collated and cross-referenced everything. Awls and leather punches? No, those didn't end up with the saddle making supplies, they were put in the same tent as the cobbler's gear. They should be in barrel S-485-9. Oh, that's salt? Crap.

And so on.

Wagons of hay and straw rolled in to feed the hundreds of saddle horses, mules, drays, warhorses and other beasts. The haylofts were stuffed to bursting, so wooden buildings were erected in the fields. These consisted of three-sided structures with an inner wall of green logs. A second, outer frame was much lighter, a mere shell. The space between the two was filled with hay and canvas wrapped around the outside. Straw piled overhead served to keep the snow off. The result was a structure that let the horses take shelter from the winter winds. The inner wall and outer canvas prevented them from getting into the hay and trampling it, but all the soldiers had to do was flip back the canvas and fork it out as needed. That hay would be used last, in the hope that by the time it was needed, the weather would have moderated enough that it was no longer needed as insulation.

Along with the new troops came four additional Healers. The extra hands meant that Kyminn wasn't always needed in his role as a Healer, freeing him up to focus on training. He did, however, volunteer to take night call on a regular basis, letting the other Healers enjoy an uninterrupted rest that they might replenish their strength.

Kyminn lost track of the number of beasts he trained. Finally allowed some input, he threw his energy into his work. Matching horses to riders, sorting out a fractious beast, solving problems as they emerged – it seemed like he lived in the training rings.

Kyminn didn't need to be told not to overreach his Gifts. He spent as much time in the saddle demonstrating drills, or on his feet wrestling a problem animal, as he did in mind-to-mind training. He still went to bed exhausted and woke before dawn each day.

Kyminn seldom saw his roommate, as Tysen and the other healers were as busy as he. The arrival of the additional members filled the building to capacity and Tysen had volunteered to share the double room with Kyminn. Tysen pointed out that although they technically each had the same amount of floor space as in a single room, there was something to be said for the elbow room the double space offered. The mastiffs readily gave up their bed to Tysen, although the animals preferred to sneak up and sleep with the humans. A 150lb mastiff doesn't make for the most considerate of bedmates, but they are warm and very hard to evict.

Not even the dogs were immune to the frenetic pace of the camp. Along with the infantry company had come a dog-master along with his own pack of a dozen war-dogs. Kyminn somehow found an extra half-candlemark each day to work with the dogs, and the dog handler readily agreed to include them in his own drills. The once pudgy mastiffs were now solid blocks of muscle, trained in a variety of both offensive and defensive tasks.

Kyminn knew that he really should turn his dogs over to the dog handler, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't have said why, but the thought of sending them away left an unsettling emptiness within.

The pace of training slowed briefly at mid-winter, with most of the camp being given three days leave. There wasn't really any place to go – the once sleepy town of Warford was positively overrun with soldiers and even getting into the sole inn was out of the question.

Kyminn, Tysen, and Bryce, along with many others, spent the holiday quietly. For most of them, the respite meant a chance to catch up on sleep and much-needed chores. Both the Healers still had call in the infirmary, but the pause in training meant a reduction in injuries as well.

To Kyminn's surprise and pleasure, Tysen had been able to follow through on his joking promise to knit sweaters for the dogs. Each of the mastiffs now sported a thick sweater over their short fur. Bryce's contribution was a set of winter boots for each dog, protection for their vulnerable feet. Kyminn thanked his friends profusely, bemused that they would know that caring for his animals was the best gift he could receive.

Shyly, Kyminn gave each of his friends their presents, each wrapped in clean, worn cloth and tied with a bit of ribbon.

Bryce carefully opened the package, his eyes bright with curiosity. It was a leather pouch, in a perfect Guard blue, complete with a strap to slide onto one's belt. A drawstring held the top closed and Bryce peeked inside.

"You're always saying how you put down those graphite sticks and can never find them when you need one. I made this so you always have some with you. There's even a few of those soft gums inside, in case you make a mistake."

"It's wonderful! Thank you Kyminn!" Bryce examined the bag with delight. "You've even embroidered it with my name." He stopped and looked more closely. "Is that what I think it is?"

Kyminn nodded. "It's Derris's. It was actually his idea and Randen agreed. We all wanted to thank you two for all you did for me during the hearing." He nodded to Tysen, "Go ahead, open yours."

Tysen's gift was a leather book cover, dyed in Healer green. It had small flaps to slide the book's cover into and a thin ribbon of book mark. The edging, and Tysen's name, were embroidered with hair from Derris's tail.

Tysen ran his hands, gently, reverently over the cover, his fingers tracing the edging. "Thank you Kyminn. This means a lot."

"Well, I don't have a lot of friends, so the ones I have are extra important to me." It was gruff. "Now, who brought the food?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It was still winter when they took to the road. The Lord Marshall knew it was going to take at least a moon for the army to assemble itself and move into position. With the difficulties in getting agents reliably into Karse, the Lord Marshal had to rely on the maddening vagaries of Foresight to determine where the attacks would come. While he and his planners worked to determine that, all the various pieces had to be gathered, ready to launch.

Kyminn no longer sent his own Foresights back to Talamir. Instead, he passed them directly to one of the Lord Marshall's aides. Presumably, the operations staff gathered together all the various dribs of information and then asked the Farseers to 'look' for the opposing army.

Moving an army at the tail end of winter, in the mud and sleet as the roads alternately froze and thawed beneath their feet, was pure misery. The healers were placed near the end of the column, behind the troops but before the baggage train. Technically, it was a better position than being at the very end, but it really made no practical difference – there was more than enough ruts, mud and misery to go around.

The team of healers had expanded still further as outlying detachments joined the column. Healers with various Gifts and skills, along with three other non-gifted Healers, raised their total numbers to eighteen trained Healers. In addition, porters, aides, cooks and even laundresses were added to the group.

After a month of hard travel, the army settled in to wait. The Lord Marshall had chosen the location with care, a spot where the road paralleled a moderately sized river which flowed east to west. The scouts had already marked routes of retreat across the river and scouted all the tracks to their rear. The army was a mere half-day's march from Karse itself and the Lord Marshall expected to move to either the south-east or south-west to meet the enemy.

With all the pieces finally collected, the Healers gathered for their own deployment instructions. With everyone crammed in one place, even their largest tent was packed to capacity. The first speaker was a Guard captain, a woman that Kyminn didn't know.

"I am Guard Captain Vessar. I am part of the Lord Marshall's planning staff and I am responsible for transportation and medical services. I work very closely with Captain Pavey here," a nod at a man standing off to the side. "He is responsible for supplies and support. If you're wondering what that means, he's the fellow that's in charge of every bed, chair and bandage you use, as well as the cooks."

A few grins and low chuckles greeted this, as Captain Vessar had clearly intended. She continued, "Most people assume that we combine transportation with medical services because we need to evacuate the wounded. This is only a small part of it. Moving supplies and personnel depends on our draft beasts, and while the grooms and horse-leeches will handle the majority of their care, it may be," she paused, and rephrased her last statement, "Make that _will be_ asked to use your gifts on the horses from time to time."

There was a startled and unhappy rumble at this announcement and a Healer who Kyminn didn't know raised his hand. "Excuse me Captain, but did I understand you correctly? You want us to put _animals_ over people?"

Clearly, she'd anticipated this question. "If the question is whether to save a human life or a horse's? Absolutely not. However, if all your patients are stable and recovering using natural means? And we need our cavalry fit for the next assault? Then yes, you will be asked to work on the horses." She cast her eyes around the room. "I know that this is hard for you to hear, that it seems beneath you – or even a betrayal of your Healer's oath – to do this. That's why the two functions have one commander, and why that commander is part of the Lord Marshall's planning staff. The Lord Marshall has the ultimate responsibility for deciding how to best use our finite resources. Every Valdemaran, soldier or civilian, matters to him, and his task is to defend our borders while spending as few lives as possible."

The Healer subsided with reluctant understanding. Satisfied that there were no further questions on that topic, the Captain went on. "Some of you are wondering why you have been assigned your own cook wagons and other supports. This is because we are well aware that you need to eat regularly in order to recover the energies you will be using. Captain Pavey can't guarantee that any given meal will be hot or fancy, but it will be available when you need it. As well, you will need access to stoves and water in order to prepare your medicines. Part of the cook's duties will include making sure there is, at minimum, a brazier and cask of water available for that purpose. Trust me," her tone was grim, "That isn't a luxury. You're going to be far too busy to take care of those sorts of details."

"Finally, the cleaning staff. Again, this is not a luxury. Patient bedding, bandages, Greens – we will do our best to keep things as clean as possible, but these good folks are all volunteers. Many of them," she pointed to a cluster at the back, who looked startled to be singled out, "Are local farmers and small holders who came forward when we needed them. They are not trained Healers, nor are they servants. They are the most vulnerable part of your teams and they will be the first ones evacuated at any sign of risk. Appreciate them when you have them, because they can't always be there."

Heads craned back to look at the little group. All of them were, as the Captain had said, dressed in the rough homespun of a small farmer. Kyminn's immediate guess were that these were widows or older spinsters, women whose nieces or daughters-in-law already ran the household. With the prospect for farming reduced by having an army camped on their doorsteps, their labour could be spared this season.

"I'm now going to turn this meeting over to your senior Healer. He will explain what happens next." The Captain moved and sat beside her colleague.

To Kyminn's dismay, the senior Healer who stepped forward was none other than Mennis. He stifled a groan at the thought of the intransigent Healer in charge of the group. As far as Kyminn was aware, Mennis' views of the non-gifted Healer had not wavered in the slightest.

"Healer Beck and I," Mennis began without preamble, gesturing for someone to join him at the front of the room, "Have conferred. We have what we feel is the best division of Gifts and skills. Before we get to that, I'm going to let him talk about the porters and aides. Jan?"

Healer Jan Beck was sinewy and stooped. His snow-white hair leant him an added air of fragility, but his voice was a strong tenor. "It is fortunate," the Healer said, "that it has been many years since Valdemar last went to war. That doesn't mean though, that we have forgotten how to do so. We Healers have our own records of processes and lessons learned, as does the Guard. With the Captains' help, we have reestablished those systems found to have worked best in the past."

Beck gestured towards a cluster of Guardsman, standing near the front in neat ranks. "These men have been assigned as porters. Most of them are volunteers. They will go onto the battlefield with you and bear off the wounded. They are also responsible for your safety." The senior Healer met the eye of each and every Healer present. "You will be treating the wounded. All the wounded. That is our calling and blood knows no nation or uniform. Some of the foe may be frightened, and strike at you in that fear. Others may feel they must continue the fight. For that reason, the porters will be armed."

A Healer – the same one, Kyminn realized – raised his hand. "What about us?"

"That is to be your own decision. The laws of Valdemar, and the precepts of the Mercenary Code, state that Healers are non-combatants. That means that Healers may not be used to attack the foe, nor are they a valid target for attack. Under that code, were the enemy to reach these tents, they would be able to call for our surrender, and once given, not permitted to harm us nor any of the wounded."

Captain Pavey rose and all eyes turned to him. "To the best of our knowledge, the Tedrel nation does not abide by the Mercenary Code. Our reports tell us that it is their practice to kill all wounded outright and capture Healers when they can. They will force Healers, through threats and torture, to use their Gifts until the Healer either dies or burns out their Gift."

Silence greeted this remark. Kyminn had suspected this was the case, and to judge by their expressions, so had his fellows. "Much as we hope that it will never come to that, it would be foolish in the extreme for us to ignore the possibility." A short, grim, nod and the captain sank down again.

Healer Beck cleared his throat and said sternly, "You are all reminded of your oaths as Healers. You are expected to defend yourself if you are able to do so, but you _will_ abide by the laws of Valdemar and your oaths in this." He looked as though he wanted to say more on the subject, but restrained himself. Instead, he indicated the many civilians dispersed throughout the group. "We are fortunate in the extreme that so many have volunteered to help care for the injured. To them will fall many of the day to day tasks of patient care: changing of bandages, emptying chamber pots, feeding those unable to feed themselves. Many of them have herb-lore and will assist in the preparation of our teas and tinctures. Again, these people are not your servants and anyone found treating them poorly will answer for it." For such a frail-seeming man, there was a great deal of strength in his glare.

A nod of thanks and Mennis took over once again. "This army is vast, thousands upon thousands of men, horses and more. In all that vast horde, there are only fourteen of us with the Healing Gift. We cannot do this alone." Kyminn wondered what it had cost the man to admit that?

"We are going to have to rely on the rest of you if we are to succeed. Those of you who Heal without Gifts – your skills and knowledge are needed now." Somehow, Mennis still managed to avoid admitting that Kyminn and his sort were actual Healers. Given the unprecedented degree of concession he'd already made, Kyminn was willing to accept the compromise.

"Four of you are trained as Healers are, including the advanced skills of surgery, trauma and bone-setting. There are an additional twenty-two of you with knowledge of herb healing and other basic skills." Mennis pointed to where clerks were posting lists at various stations throughout the tent. "You have been divided into working shifts. Each shift will consist of four to six trained Healers, a squad of porters and various aides, both those with some knowledge and those who do not. When the time comes," Mennis paused and took a deep breath, "When the time comes, we must wait for the message from the Lord Marshall before we enter the battlefield. Only he can tell us if the area is secure enough for us to enter.

"Each team will be assigned an area to search for wounded. It is important that you confine your attentions to your own area. We don't want people dying while some areas are searched twice. Our tents will fill quickly and each of you trained Healers knows how to triage the wounded. Once we know what we're dealing with, we'll establish shifts for patient care and evacuation." He looked over the room and said softly, "May the gods have mercy on us all."

Quietly, the room broke up into small clusters, some speaking in low voices, others looking pale and quiet. Most headed towards one of the lists as they clustered around, each person looking for his or her own name.

Kyminn found himself squeezed in behind a young woman in Healer Greens. She was just tall enough to block his view so he found himself leaning to one side, trying to peer around her. She was leafing through the pages, finally stopping on one of them. Kyminn was surprised to see his own name on that page and he read it quickly.

 _Team Six_

 _Healer Eiven Bell* (team leader)_

 _Healer Cydris Lancolme* (Intern)_

 _Healer Tysen Carrell*_

 _Healer Kyminn Danner*_

 _*Trained Healer_ – Kyminn wondered if it had been Jan Beck or Aldo Mennis who had made that notation and if Mennis, how badly it had pained him to do so.

 _Porters_

A long list of names followed, nearly two dozen all told. A few were vaguely familiar, although two jumped out at him: _Corporal Bryce Krahn_ and _Corporal Jekks Lyell_. His delight at seeing Bryce's name on the list was balanced by the one that followed. Having Lyell as one of their porters suggested that they might be in for an interesting time. Kyminn wondered if the prissy former orderly had volunteered for the duty or been volun-told. He decided it was best not to ask.

The final section was simply titled _Aides_. As above, it was a long list of names, although none of these were familiar. Several of them had a small '+' by the name and a note on the bottom explained this meant the person had some healing knowledge or experience.

The woman in front released the pages and began to wriggle her way free of the crowd. Seeing Kyminn looming behind her, she apologized, "Sorry. I should have given you a chance at the lists. I guess you'll have to wait." Someone had already snatched up the sheaf of papers and was leafing through the pages, reading various entries to his friends.

A shake of Kyminn's head. "Don't worry. You were on the page I needed. I…" he paused as someone trod on his foot, trying to get closer to the list. "Let's get free of this crowd."

They managed to extricate themselves and find a relatively open spot. "As I was saying," Kyminn held out his hand. "Kyminn Danner. Trauma, surgery and bones. Animal Healing, Animal Mindspeech, Animal Empathy and Foresight." He was going to be working with this person for the foreseeable future and was determined to be as upfront about matters as possible.

"Healer Cydris Lancolme. Healing, trauma and surgery. I'm Eiven's intern. My father, uncle, sister and two brothers are in the Guard, so it was natural for me to gravitate towards trauma. I volunteered and Dean Tannel agreed that I could serve my internship here." A faint lift of the chin, daring him to contest her right to be included.

"I've only ever been at one major accident that involved a lot of injured, so I can't claim that I can predict what this is going to be like. For what it's worth, I agree with the Dean. I think you're going to get a lifetime's worth of trauma experience over the next many sennights." His tone was sober.

Cydris gave a tiny nod, an acknowledgement of Kyminn's implicit support. "Do you know who this other person is? Healer Carrell?"

A real smile crept onto Kyminn's face. "As a matter of fact, I do. He's a friend of mine and we were room-mates at our last post." Kyminn hadn't consciously decided to omit mention of Warford, it just happened. "You can't miss him. He's usually the tallest person in the room. In fact…there he is, talking to that dark-haired fellow."

"That's Eiven. It looks like they've found each other." From the two heads bent in conference, the two seemed to be discussing something. Suddenly, Eiven hopped up on a chair, making himself visible to the crowd.

"Team Six!" He had to repeat himself twice before the crowd quieted enough. "Team Six will meet tomorrow morning in the ward four tent. The call is for the eighth hour, right after breakfast. We will get everybody sorted out then. If you can't find me in the crowd, you can certainly find this fellow," he smiled and indicated Tysen. "See you in the morning."

At this example, other team leaders called out similar announcements and the crowd gradually broke up.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Still an early riser, Kyminn had been one of the first in line for breakfast and was lingering over a mug of tea while the mess tent gradually filled with diners. He simply raised his mug in salute as Tysen straddled the bench across from him. His friend plunked down a heaping bowl of porridge and chopped, dried fruit with a heavy sigh.

"I realize that we're lucky to get a hot meal, and to have even this bit of fruit to sweeten it, but I have to say, I'm getting rather tired of porridge." Observation notwithstanding, the Healer shoveled it in readily enough.

"Kyminn Danner?" The question came from a figure in greens standing at Kyminn's back. As Kyminn twisted about and offered a nod, the Healer stuck out his hand. "Eiven Bell, I'm on your team. Cydris told me you two met last night."

Kyminn shook the proffered hand, gesturing for Eiven to join them. Like Tysen, Eiven bore a large bowl of porridge, although his had cream mixed in with the fruit. "We did. She seems quite capable."

Eiven's raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting initial assessment, since you haven't actually seen her work. I find it a bit odd that you jumped to that conclusion."

Kyminn wondered if he was actually standing in verbal quicksand, or if he was simply imagining the sensation. He kept his tone casual. "I respect Dean Tannel. He says she should be here, which is fairly telling. And, while it's true that she and I only exchanged a few words, she seemed nice enough."

"By 'nice enough' do you mean 'open minded about non-Gifted Healers'?" Mild, but extremely direct.

"Partly, yes." Kyminn was equally blunt. "Plus she didn't have an attitude about being an intern and still being posted out here. Since we're being so forthright, I'll point out that she could have used it as an opportunity to flaunt her skills, that a novice would get such a challenging post. She didn't and _that_ is what spoke well for her."

Eiven offered up a faint smile as he took a bite of his cooling porridge. "Fair enough. And before you ask, I have no issues with your style of work. I think that those sorts of skills are going to be equally or more important than the Healing gift on its own. It always surprises me that people like Aldo Mennis forget that 80 % or more of our training doesn't involve the use of the Healing gift."

Eiven paused again, neatly emptying his bowl before the porridge congealed into glue. "Now, I have another question for you. What can you tell me about this incident at Warford that everyone keeps talking about?"

Tysen choked on his porridge and conversation stopped while Eiven helpfully thumped him on the back until the other Healer could breathe again. Finally, face red, Tysen gestured for Kyminn to go ahead.

The brief interruption had given Kyminn time to formulate his response. "The fact that I was charged – and cleared of all allegations, is public record. The rest of the matter has been bound as confidential. This is partly out of respect to the others involved and partly because the Heraldic circle felt it best."

He felt his way carefully with his next words. "I will say this – at no time did I disobey any order. For the actions that I undertook…ultimately, my decision to do so was ratified by the tribunal, the Guard, and both the Heraldic and Healer's circles. Mistakes were made, and some of them were mine. The situation has been analyzed, investigated, reviewed, and pondered until there is no meat left on that bone. I acted according to my best judgement and it happened that I got it right. It's done and now we need to move on."

"That's an awful lot of attention to focus on one first-year Healer," Eiven was openly curious.

"Trust me, I'm excruciatingly aware of that fact." It was rueful. "Two years ago I was an unproven, unknown Healer in a small village in the far north. Now I'm leagues and years away from that and I've encountered people and places I never knew existed. I assure you, you're not the only one who's asking 'How on earth did this happen?'".

Eiven Bell's face creased into a real smile for the first time. "I think that we all ask that question at some point or another. I suspect though, that you have some pretty interesting stories to tell." He glanced at the time candle. "We should get moving. It wouldn't give a good impression if we were to be late to our own meeting."

The three weren't late, although they weren't the first to arrive. A few of their team were already milling about and Cydris appeared shortly afterwards. As people settled on the beds, benches and even the floor, Eiven cleared his throat for their attention.

"Good morning everyone. I am Healer Eiven Bell and I'll be your team leader. Mostly that means that I get to write schedules and go to meetings along with all my work here. So, if anyone wants this job…" He paused to let the laughter fade. "Is there anyone here with experience as a clerk or scribe? There's a few things we need to get down."

Several hands went up, Bryce's among them, but Eiven pointed to another person instead. The Healer produced a few sheets of rough paper and a graphite stick, passing them through the crowd to the clerk. He waited until the clerk signaled his readiness before he continued.

"As you may know, this camp is temporary. We don't know where the enemy will cross the border, nor do we know when that will occur. When we move to an active war footing, the configuration of this camp will change. For starters, don't assume that we're going to have all these nice tents. The order of set up will be: treatment tents, ward tents, and personal shelters. The mess tent, stores tents and so forth may not be unpacked again for sennights – or ever. It will depend entirely on the enemy and how often we have to move to meet them."

Eiven consulted his notes and continued. "Right now, we are rather spread out. Some of the porters are still with their original units and our aides are scattered all over the place. When we move, that is going to change. We don't have time to be running all over the camp, trying to locate the rest of our team. Our team – and this is true for all the Healing teams - will be assigned their own squad area. I've been told we can expect four-person tents and we'll assign bunking based on that assumption. Aides, porters and Healers will all room by type. I just hope that Healer Carrell here doesn't snore." Tysen tried, but failed, to look hurt at this jab.

"Corporal Lyell, it's my understanding that you have some experience with plans and administration?" Eiven searched the crowd, looking for the named individual.

Lyell shot to his feet. "Yes sir, I do sir."

"Good. After we're done here, I want to go over the bunk assignments. I assume you're familiar with how a squad's lines are organized while in camp?"

A blink, then "Yes sir, I am sir."

"Fine. That makes one of us. I'll want you to sketch that out for me and then we'll get people put in tents. In addition, I'm going to dump a bunch of the record keeping on you since you've got experience in it. On the plus side, it means you – probably – will spend less time helping haul tents and gear around because you'll be too busy trying to keep track of it all." Bell nodded and Lyell resumed his spot on the floor.

"Corporal…Krane?" Another scan of the crowd as Bryce stood.

"Krahn sir. Yes?"

Eiven peered at his notes again. "Ah. Right. Sorry about that. It probably does say Krahn. Poor handwriting. Comes of trying to scribble meeting notes in the lamplight." He shook his head to get himself back on track. "Any way, I understand you are a stores clerk?"

A nod. "Yes sir."

"Good. Guess what?" Bell's tone was manically chipper.

"I'd hazard a guess that you want me to handle our stores requisitions sir?" Bryce tried not to sound excessively dry.

"By the three, I love intelligent team-mates." Eiven's expression looked positively beatific. "Join Lyell and me afterwards and we'll talk about what our needs are and I'll clue you in to who handles what on the supply side." Eiven directed the next statement to the group at large. "If anyone has noticed something they need, or think we should have, see Corporal Krahn right afterwards."

"Almost done here folks, bear with me for just a few moments more." Eiven flipped the page over and kept reading, "Where was I? Oh, yes, Porters. Each Healer will have a designated group of four porters, with the exception of Healer Danner who will have eight. If anyone wonders why, it's because those with the Healing Gift will probably find ourselves using 'quick and dirty' Healing webs on the patients and then evacuating with them. The patients will be stabilized once they get to the rear. This technique places a limit to how many patients we can manage at once. Healer Danner, on the other hand, can bind, bandage, stabilize and get the patient sent back while he stays in the field and works on the next one. One way is fast, the other allows for a higher volume." A shrug, "It works out to about the same in the end, and the important thing is to get the patient into treatment."

"Porters, do any of you have training in battlefield wound care? How to stop bleeding, what to do when someone has something sticking out of their gut?" Bell looked expectantly at the Guardsmen, who looked at each other until one of them stood up.

"Sir, yes sir. Some of that is part of our basic training and most of us have seen broken bones and gashes during training. I think I'm right though in saying that it's been a few years for most of us, at least for the serious stuff." The man sat down quickly.

"That's good news. Somehow, the information that you all had some training in that never got passed on. We'll figure out what was covered and arrange for some refresher training."

"I can do that," Kyminn volunteered.

"I appreciate the offer, but I've received a request for you to do some work over at C company lines. Seems a bunch of their horses are sick and they want you to look at it. Healer Carrell? I'm going to ask you to track down the information and then you and Healer Lancolme arrange that training."

The other three nodded as Eiven kept going. "Just two more points and we can start the real work. Aides, you are more than welcome to join that training, just let one of the two instructor Healers know so they can plan accordingly. Also to the aides, I know that some of you already have some healing knowledge, but the information as to what that might be hasn't reached me yet. Please see Corporal Krahn immediately afterwards and let him know. If anyone is interesting in learning how to make basic salves, tinctures and what not, same thing – let Krahn know.

"Last point – bunking. If you already know who you'd prefer to bunk with, let Corporal Lyell know. We will honor your request if possible, but I won't make any guarantees. Porters will bunk with someone on the same Healer's team. That way if one of us gets called out in the middle of the night, we won't wake up three tents worth of people trying to find our porters. I'm sure everyone will appreciate that."

Another wry smile. "Porters, if you have a preference for which of your fellows or which of us you'd like to work with, let Lyell know. The only exception to this is Krahn and Lyell – you're both assigned to me and you'll be bunkmates."

A deep breath, "So, to sum up: see the Corporals and give them your information on training, teams and bunking requests. I'm going to make a small change here and ask that our scribe," a nod at the scribbling private, "be the one to record all the stores requests. Corporal Krahn is going to be too busy for the next half candlemark or so to take those requests as well as recording skills and training. Private – I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name – please pass the list on to Corporal Krahn once you have it, alright?" The scribe nodded but didn't pause in his work.

"All that, plus the Healers know what they're to do. Any questions?" Bell looked around the tent. There were a few questions, mostly from people who hadn't been listening to the instructions, but Eiven was able to dismiss everyone in fairly short order.

 _SCENE BREAK_

On being dismissed, Kyminn headed directly for the C Company's horse lines. Or rather, he tried to. The first four people he asked all offered conflicting directions as to where his destination lay. Finally, he found a private who took pity on him and was willing to lead the stray Healer to his goal.

Someone had apparently been thinking ahead and had moved the ailing horses to the far end of the camp, with a large quarantine zone surrounding the ill beasts. The beasts were lethargic, bloated and many showed signs of laminitis – a crippling form of lameness.

A crowd of grooms and troopers moved among the animals, trying to get the animals to take draughts of a fortified tonic. Kyminn grabbed a passing trooper. "Who's in charge here?"

The man looked startled and angry at being interrupted, but that changed to relief when he saw the green robes. "Sergeant Kartur, over there with that downed mare," the man pointed. Kyminn released him with a nod of thanks and made his way over to where the sergeant was trying to bring the mare back to her feet.

"Let me," Kyminn gently rested his hands on the downed animal's neck, probing, searching for a clue as to why nearly 30 horses were suddenly so ill. With his help, the mare was able to regain her feet, although she was still gravely ill.

"Tell me what happened," Kyminn ran his hands over the mare, noting the fever and dehydration.

"It came on suddenly, in the last two days. Several at a time and all from the same unit. We changed out all the feed, scoured all the buckets and checked all the gear. We've quarantined all those with symptoms and separated out the rest of that bunch. More of them are coming down with it by the candlemark." The man's voice spoke of the struggle of the last two days.

"Have you lost any yet?" Kyminn watched as the horse raised her tail. Horses can't vomit, so any problems in their guts usually revealed itself at the tail end. This horse was no exception, although Kyminn noted the result was less fetid than he would have expected. With a glance at the sergeant, Kyminn gently pushed the mare off to one side and examined the recent deposit, poking through it with a stick.

"Not lost any yet, this lady's the worst of them. As for what you're looking at, we've checked, Healer," the man confirmed. "We couldn't find any sign of worms or other parasites. Just…loose…like you see there."

Kyminn rose, dusting off his hands absently. "Food okay, water okay, confined to one herd…" He trailed off. "Just this one group? Where did they come from?"

"From west of here. We're from a Guard post near the Comb, along the southern border. As near as I can tell, it's only our animals." The sergeant stroked the mare's neck as though he could transfer some of his own strength to the swaying animal.

"Could be any one of lot of things," Kyminn muttered, more to himself than the Guardsman. "Tell me about your former post and your trip here. How was the trip? The grazing? Don't leave any detail out."

"The trip went well, better than we expected, actually. That area of the Comb, it's pretty dry so there was some of last year's grass, but we mostly used our own feed. We all drank from the same wells and streams as the horses and we haven't gotten sick. I can't even complain about the weather, it was unseasonably warm, actually." A bitter snort, "Should have known it went too good."

"Unseasonably warm?" Something niggled in the back of Kyminn's brain, something about warm spring weather and sick horses. "You said they grazed on last year's grass. No plants that were new to you? No jimsonweed or other toxic plants?"

"We checked very carefully Healer," the man was firm on that point. "If there was any doubt, we kept to the feed we'd brought with us. There was even a stretch of a couple of days that we _didn't_ graze them. The ground was marshy and some plants were starting to green but we weren't sure what they were. No horses ate those though, I'm sure of that!"

"Dry region. Warm weather. Swampy ground." The idea continued to scratch at the back of Kyminn's thoughts. Finally, he breathed, "Thank _you_ Healer Delassia!" He started intently at the sergeant. "Think back, sergeant, this is important. Did you have any problems with flies?"

"Flies? No sir, no problems with flies. At least, not the biting kind. Clouds and clouds of them though, at the…"

"Swamp." Kyminn finished the sentence for him, nodding in sudden understanding. "Sergeant, your horses have something called Shasta Fever, sometimes just called Horse Fever. We're not sure how it gets spread, but you find it when clouds of mayflies hatch. Mayflies don't bite, so we're not sure how it gets to the horses, but it does. It also spreads from horse to horse through their manure. It's not that common in Valdemar because we simply don't have the climate for it. And you'd never see it in this region because it's so dry. But the warm spring dried the swamp enough that all those mayflies hatched at once, instead of over the whole season. When that happens…Shasta Fever."

"Can we treat it?" Having the diagnosis was all well and good, but useless if they couldn't act on it.

"More or less. It's like if you or I had a stomach bug. There's only so much a Healer can do for that. But what we _can_ do is treat the symptoms: the fever, the edema, the laminitis. It's those things and the dehydration that are the real danger. We're going to need gallons of tonic and a lot more Healers."

Kyminn made a mental note to write a letter to Delassia, thanking her for making him study unusual examples of equine disease outbreaks.

With the assistance of the other Healers and the dedicated work of the troopers themselves, the horses were all on the way to recovery within a few days. While the situation was stressful and exhausting, it gave the Healers a chance to refine their team process in a less fraught environment. Small blessing, on the precipice of war.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N I think the most interesting part of this process has been how very much I've learned. Not just about Valdemar – rereading the books to make sure I get timelines and details correct doesn't count as research, it counts as fun. I take great pleasure in digging out little things that I'd perhaps overlooked, small things that I can weave into my stories to make them a good match for Mercedes Lackey's inimitable original. I bought "Closer to the Heart" within a couple days of its release and was ECSTATIC to learn that Valdemar has had moveable type since Mags' time! It lets me picture life at the Collegia in a different way, and that helps the stories evolve._

 _I've also learned a tremendous amount simply by having to do research for the stories. I now know far more than I did before about equine anatomy, which is how I discovered that horses do not, in fact, vomit. That little fact changed the movement of the story. Just a bit mind, but enough that I think I've maintained the realism. I've learned about dressage movements, and read an old manuscript on how to train cavalry horses. I even saw an old silent film on how they trained horses back in the day. (Spoiler, I'm pretty sure that having a Mindspeaker would have made the process less stressful for the horse.)_

 _If anyone is wondering, the sick horses were suffering from a version of "Potomac Horse Fever", PHF, or "Shasta River Crud" is a real disease. Equine Monocytic Ehrlichiosis is thought to be caused by a nematode that is found in freshwater snails. It's also found in the larval form of caddis flies and mayflies. As the insects die, they fall to the ground and are accidently eaten. The result is some very, very sick horses. And since Valdemar has neither antibiotics nor the necessary vaccine…the Healers got to go to work._

 _Lastly – I gave a good deal of thought on how to write the sick horse scene. To be delicate about the matter, I wanted to describe the symptoms well enough so that everyone knew what was occurring, but in a way that avoided some specific language._

 _I think this was a good test case for the battle scenes, since there are going to be a lot of very hurt people. For those of you who may be less comfortable with depictions of injury, I'm going to try very hard to stick to my rating: descriptions of injuries, nothing graphic. If anyone feels I've strayed from this standard, please, PLEASE let me know so that I can revise._

 _Let's carry on, shall we? A/N end_

Chapter 15

A slow separation of consciousness and then, gently, carefully, Kyminn and the little gelding were horse and man, not six-legs-two-hearts-two souls apart in space _._

"Well, sir?" the anxious guardsman couldn't hold back the worry.

Kyminn gave the scrawny little beast a gentle pat. For some reason, this horse had been one of the first to get sick and then the last to recover. No one was sure why, for the animal was known for his heart and willing temperament. By all accounts, the little creature had stamina to spare, but it seemed to have failed him this time. Kyminn gave a little sigh. "He's clear of the sickness, finally. He's still not back up to strength though. Oh, you could take him out and he'd manage alright, but he's just not back to himself yet. If you can, I'd say rest him for another three to four days. By then he should be fully recovered."

The guardsman was clearly unhappy at this news. "I've just come from orders, sir. We've been told that we're moving no later than mid-morning, two days from now."

A grimace. Under normal conditions, Kyminn would have insisted that the horse be permitted to rest. But times were far from normal, weren't they? This little gelding might be the first one pressed back into service while still less than hale, but he most certainly wouldn't be the last. "Do the best you can then. Ride him if you must, wrangle a spare if you can. Best we can…" Kyminn trailed off.

"Sir?" The guardsman looked at the Healer in askance.

 _Horses flooding out of a gap in the hills, beasts screaming under a hail of arrows_

 _Swords, red with dawn sunlight as they drove down, only to rise again red with blood_

 _A line of beasts surging forward, then abruptly crashing to their knees, squealing and twisting in agony._

Kyminn groped his way along the picket line, coming up on the off side of the next horse. The horse tossed her head in consternation at this human who mounted from the wrong side. She skittered, snubbing against the picket line and her distress spread like a ripple down the line. As quickly as the disturbance started, it stilled, calm spreading outward from the figure clinging to the mare's back.

"Take me to the command tent. Right now! Run if you can, ride if you need to. Hurry!" Kyminn tried to sort and control the flood of images and impressions his Foresight was showing him.

The guardsman barely paused to gape. The habit of obedience shortly had him untying the startled mare and leading her through the camp at a steady run. There's much to be said for discipline, for as soon as people realized a Healer was speeding down the tracks of the camp, the crowd parted as though cleaved by a sword.

The tent was one of the largest Kyminn had seen and the first with its own sentries. That they had clearly seen him coming did not mean they were automatically going to grant him admission. "How can I help you, Healer?" The question was courteous, but the spear barring the door didn't budge.

"Foresight. Arrows. Battle. Horses falling. Red sunrise. I need…" Kyminn's words poured out in a garble. The sentries seemed to understand what he had attempted to say, for one ducked quickly into the tent, only to return a moment later. "He's to come in."

Willing hands helped him down, helped him stumble through the canvas flap into the dim interior. A gabble of questions was abruptly cut off by a single raised hand. "Healer, what do you See?"

The words came more easily now. "Low hills flank a broad valley. Horses pour out of each side. I can't see how many there are. Arrows. Horses fall under arrows." Kyminn paused, sorting the images.

"Horses surge forward. They're chasing arrows but the horses fall. Oh! Their feet! The ground itself hurts them and they fight to turn away! Spears, spears from the morning sun and the horses die."

The babble rose, only to chop short once again. Kyminn couldn't see the speaker, but the voice meshed with his Foresight, drawing out clarity instead of clashing with it. "Where's the sun, Healer?"

"East. It's early. Red sky behind the horses. Red sky on the swords. Blood on the swords." Kyminn didn't see the tent. He saw only a distant field, far away in space and time.

A hand, rough with sword calluses, took his hand and rested it on the table. On paper. A map. "We're here." Kyminn's hand was pulled gently off to one side. "This is east." Again. "This is west." His finger traced a line. "This is a river, it runs north east to southwest. Can you see where you are?"

Kyminn ran his hand gently over the lines on the map. Not surprisingly, these maps were incredibly detailed, showing every rill, rise and bend in the region. He searched, not sure what he was looking for, until... _there_! Certain now, he pointed to ravines, open pockets and a place where the valley gapped wide between the two nations.

"Here. Horses here, running towards me. Arrows are striking them. The horses are falling." His hand moved, pointing again. "Horses running towards here, but they fall in pain. Caltrops? Pain in their feet. They falter. Spears…spears coming from the east. Can't see them in the sun but suddenly they're there. The horses die."

Abruptly, the Foresight released him and Kyminn staggered a bit as his senses became his own once more.

"Where are their troops? Ours and theirs?" This was a new voice, from an impatient looking man standing in the fore.

"I'm sorry sir. I saw no troops. I never see people, only animals." Kyminn drew a steadying breath.

"Not very useful then." That was a sour grunt.

"That's enough Carniss. We know where their cavalry is and that's more than we had. Now that we know where to look, we'll find the rest of them." This was the same voice that had walked Kyminn through the foreseeing. The man's uniform wasn't especially fancy, although the cut and fit of the cloth suggested this person was of fairly high rank. Kyminn was too far away to read the insignia on the man's collar.

The man referred to as 'Carniss' gave a reluctant nod of acknowledgement. "No offense intended, Healer. Just wishing that Foresight was a little clearer, belike."

"You're among the many wise people who have wished the same thing, Lord Carniss," Kyminn replied, hoping that he'd guessed correctly.

"Healer…Danner?" The quiet voice interrupted. "You said this happens in the morning. Do you know when?"

"Sir, yes, Danner sir. As to when, it's the day after tomorrow." Kyminn cut through the consternation his words had provoked. "I know Foresight's chancy, and mine can be unclear. Sometimes, I have no idea of when."

He almost added, "I've seen this war coming for a year now," but changed his mind. "At other times, it is very, very clear and my record bears that out. Check with Healers or Herald Talamir if you feel the need."

It was the first time that Kyminn unlimbered the very big stick that said 'Herald Talamir', but this was one time that he simply could not afford to have his Gifts questioned. Not when he'd just told them the Tedrels would be attacking in two days.

"The Healer's right," this voice came from the back of the crowd and Kyminn was startled to realize that a Herald had been lurking back there. Herald Joyeaus moved to the front of the crowd. "We've been using Kyminn's Foresights for some time now. If he says two days, then he's reporting the Foresight accurately."

A faint smile and a nod of appreciation. Kyminn hadn't seen Joyeaus for nearly a year and it was a relief to have any ally in this august gathering.

"Thank you, Healer Danner. I'm going to ask that you sit down with my plans staff and get all the details of this Foreseeing down while it's still fresh. This may take a while, is there somewhere you're expected for the next few candlemarks?"

Kyminn thought frantically, glancing at the time candle. "I'm expected on shift at the Healer's tent in a little more than a candlemark. They can arrange coverage if they know I'm busy. If I could send a message?"

"Captain Vessar, make sure that's taken care of, please." The order, along with the nod of thanks to Kyminn, were equal parts polite, definitive, authoritative and a clear dismissal. Rather astonishing, really, how one gesture could convey so very much.

"Yes, Lord Marshall." The Captain didn't salute, but she did brace in acknowledgement. The use of the words 'MY plans staff' had provided a strong hint as to the speaker's identity, but Kyminn was more than a bit star struck nonetheless.

"Well, Healer Danner. You certainly made an impression on this morning's Operations meeting," the captain's smile took any sting out of her words.

"I'm sorry. I thought I'd be sent to you, or one of the other staff. I didn't intend to interrupt." Kyminn felt a bit queasy at the notion of how many high-ranking officers, leaders and nobles he'd just barged in on.

"Normally, that's exactly what would have happened. I was actually the first person the sentry reached, and when I got his message, _I'm_ the one who interrupted the meeting. So, you're off the hook there. All I did was pass on what the sentry said 'There's a Healer outside with a Foresight that the Tedrels are attacking tomorrow at dawn.' That's what got the Lord Marshall's attention."

Kyminn racked his brain, trying to recall the events of the past little while. "I don't remember saying the Tedrels were attacking tomorrow. Did I really say that?"

"I'm not sure. So, we're going to get a message off to your team leader and figure out just what it is you saw. Have a seat over there, I'll send for something for you to drink and get that message off. You're with Bell's group, aren't you?"

"Yes Captain. Eiven Bell. Team six. Oh!" Kyminn sat up suddenly. "Uh…if that guardsman is still outside, I should send him back to his company."

"I'll make sure it's done, and I'll make sure his company knows he was obeying orders. You can start writing…" She looked pointedly at the stack of paper and the Healer meekly complied.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N A temporary change in the writing environment is going to mean that the rate of updates will slow down for the next few weeks. I am going to do my best to maintain a rate of one new chapter per week, but that may slip a bit. Thanks for your patience._

Chapter 16

They were on the road by mid-morning the following day. In spite of everyone's best intentions, even a halt of a little more than a sennight had resulted in a startling degree of 'unpacking' of supplies, gear, and personal kit. Kyminn suspected that he wasn't the only one wondering how they were going to find everything at the other end. Even now, he had no idea where the last dozen blankets, two cots, and two sacks of bandages had got to. By the same token, he had no idea how his team had suddenly acquired three charcoal braziers (sans charcoal, of course) and six cases of plaster powder for casts. Maybe if he found the missing bandages, he could add them to the plaster and actually succeed in treating a patient.

He sighed and penciled them in on the bottom of his list. He also made a separate note to pass on to Bryce, indicating that anyone looking for the following items could find them with the rest of Team Six's gear. Kyminn had a sneaking suspicion they'd never see their blankets again, given that some people seemed to follow the 'finder's keepers' method of resource management.

The four person tents they had been told to expect had so far failed to materialize, so the Healers found themselves in two, two-person tents while the rest of the team shared ten-man tents. There was an ongoing debate as to which was better: the smaller tents were lighter to set up or move, while they only needed to worry about five of the larger tents.

Kyminn suspected that the intensity of the tent debate was simply a distraction from the battle to come. Everyone reacted to the stress in his or her own way: some grew quiet and introspective, others forcibly cheerful. Most of the Healers coped by endlessly checking and rechecking all the various supplies and gear. A strange, silent argument was waged between two unknown people as to the correct location of the spare blankets. One person felt they belonged tucked under the foot of the cot. The other clearly felt they should be stored beneath the head of the cot. For several candlemarks, each time Kyminn passed through that tent, the blankets were in a different spot. As a vain attempt to create the sense of control over an uncontrollable situation, it was darkly comic and sad at the same time.

 _SCENE BREAK_

It was cold and dark when they boarded their wagons and rode silently towards the southern border. The presence of armed and armoured Guardsmen, riding as wary escorts, gave mute emphasis that this day was different. Bull and Tip, carefully buckled into their armour, peered alertly over the sides of the wagon. Kyminn's quiet commands of "Watch, Guard," had canine noses testing the predawn wind.

Their guide raised his hand and the wagon stopped. "You're not to move forward from here until given leave to do so. Any injured who make their own way off the line will be directed here. A squad has been detailed for your protection." A clatter of hoofbeats, some murmured orders and their escorts faded into the surrounding scrub.

The wagons emptied, some leaping out, others moving more with more caution, or perhaps it was hesitation. Kyminn stood with his back against the wagon, silently directing the dogs to patrol the environs of the group. He wasn't sure if he'd projected his own feelings onto the dogs or whether they had some way of perceiving that there was a threat somewhere out in the darkness, but he could feel their hackles raise as they searched for the hidden unknown.

The rosy glow over his left shoulder brightened the gloom enough for Kyminn to see that he was squeezed between Tysen and Cydris. He tried to recapture the calm certainty that he'd felt in other crises, the clarity of thought when he'd made the decision to amputate Randen's leg, his orders to Herald Keren during the fire. For some reason, that previous confidence eluded him and his thoughts rattled about, beads in a child's toy.

"There they are." He couldn't see the speaker, but enough arms pointed that he had no trouble discerning what she'd meant. The sun was not yet above the horizon, but the red glow was enough to illuminate the valley before them.

The scene before him was one he'd only ever seen in his mind's eye and his stomach gave a sick lurch as he recognized the setting. A small river bisected a wide valley, the river marking the border between the two nations. Ranks upon ranks of Guardsmen stood formed up on the northern side of the little river. Behind the Valdemarans, the round rose gradually, into several miles of low, rolling hills. To the south, the hills were steeper, true foothills that bent off to the west and joined the distant Comb. Several low valleys and ravines entered the lea from the Karsite side. Kyminn knew next to nothing of tactics, but he realized that the higher hills to the south would make it more difficult for the Valdemarans to maneuver large blocks of troops around to the enemy's rear. By the same token, the Karsites had several places where they could push troops forward into the meadow, spreading out across the Valdemaran frontage. The horseman in Kyminn recognized that at least some of the larger hills would provide barriers to any large cavalry movement, giving the Karsites at least some degree of protection along their flanks. The Valdemarans, their backs against the broad, gentle hills, had no such defense.

"Your attention everyone." Healer Mennis' voice pulled Kyminn away from the silent blocks of troops in the meadow below. "You all know what you're supposed to do and you know when and how you're supposed to do it. I'm not going to waste your time repeating it all. I will only add one thing – in the event the battle turns, or this position comes under attack, do what you must. Defend yourself, defend your patients, flee if you must. This rock and dirt here is not Valdemar. You are. Fighting to the last man just means there is no one left at the end of it all. Attach yourself to any Guard unit you can, it doesn't matter which one. If you find yourself alone, follow as best you can. We'll be waiting for you." He paused, but could think of nothing else to add, clambering awkwardly back down to the crowd.

From their vantage point on a rise about half a mile from the rear, the Healers were able to see the Valdemaran army clearly. It also let them see the blocks of Tedrel soldiers moving out of the flanking ravines. Like a black tide of poisonous ants, the stream began to fill the far side of the meadow. Kyminn started to break into a cold sweat and he found himself swaying. Shame washed through him at his weakness and he suddenly wanted to weep. He didn't realize his cheeks were wet until Tysen said sharply "Kym?"

Kyminn started to say something, but found himself surrendering the bit of tea and toast he'd managed for breakfast. "I…" he shook his head, and then gasped in horrified understanding. "My shields. They aren't holding. I don't think I can do this."

"Link," Tysen's voice was a command and Kyminn automatically thinned his shields and _reached_ for Tysen. Their power braided together, as it had so many times in the past. As it did so, Kyminn felt the fear being pushed back, strength returning to his legs. Unfamiliar hands helped him to his feet and he noticed that Cydris' touch seemed to leave a lingering warmth behind.

He had opened his mouth to thank Tysen, just as the sun broke from the horizon. With an eerie, ululating howl, the Tedrels pushed forward, across the river and into Valdemar. On the left flank, with the sun behind them, Tedrel archers darkened the air with hissing shafts. As one, the left flank turned and raised their shields, sending the arrows spinning harmlessly aside. A few got through and an Empath somewhere cried out in sudden pain.

A company of Valdemaran cavalry launched in pursuit of the Karsite bowmen and Kyminn gave a muffled cry as he recognized the image from his Foresight. This time though, the horses pulled up and wheeled left, the line of spearmen breaking open to reveal the archers in the second and third ranks. This time, there was no flight of spears from the morning sun. Instead, the Valdemarans fired two, three, four volleys into the waiting enemy company before they turned back to their own lines.

He wanted to shout in exaltation, but he couldn't, for by now the main battle was joined. As men and horses disappeared in the swirling maw, the pressure on his shields became unbearable. "Cydris!"

There was no hesitation and only a faint questing as her power joined his and Tysen's. He gave her a shaky smile of relief and thanks, then returned his attention to the battlefield.

As the two armies broke apart, Kyminn couldn't have said which side prevailed. Both armies withdrew briefly, but each seemed equally intact. A straggling line of injured were starting to make their way to the rear and some of the Healers started to meet them. At Mennis' command of "Healers hold! Porters, forward!" the flow stopped, reluctantly, resentfully.

The teams of porters took up their stretchers and trotted down the rise, loading those unable to make the rest of the climb on their own. The porters went forward only to within a hundred yards of the command group and spread out to either side from that point. They moved with caution, one eye on the battlefield as troops reformed and shifted position.

At the first bugle call, the porters simply rolled their patient onto the stretchers and pelted for the aid station on the distant rise. One team, that had strayed too far forward, was cut down by a group of Tedrel skirmishers. The company of Guard detailed to protect the command group drove off the raiders, but at the cost of the porters, their patient and two more of the Guard company. Only candlemarks into the first battle and already they were bleeding.

The first of the wounded had begun to arrive and Kyminn was far too busy to watch what was happening on the plain below them. The procedure for deciding which patient to treat first was both deceptively simple and brutally complex. On the one end were those that not even the most Gifted of Healers could save. These were patients who, by any measure, should have already died: open fractures of the skull, near-total eviscerations, large parts of the body missing. On the other end were the patients who would survive after waiting candlemarks or even a day without treatment: simple fractures, controllable bleeding, even some amputations fit this group.

The brutal calculus of triage fit between these two extremes. Who gets treated first? Is it the soldier who will take a candlemark of both a surgeon's and a Healer's time to be put on the road to recovery? Or is it his fellow, who can only be saved with two candlemarks of a Healer's gift lest his body poison him? The sucking chest wound or the crushed jaw who is having trouble breathing? Multiply this a hundredfold as the wounded keep coming and with only a frail few hands to hold off death.

"Kyminn, I have to let go." Tysen was apologetic, his hands red as he tried to staunch the wound in the man's thigh."

Kyminn nodded his understanding, his knees buckling as first Tysen, then Cydris withdrew their strength from his shields. His vision blurred and his hands shook as agony washed over him. Flashes, images, injured animals battering against his Empathy. He couldn't help it. He couldn't remain there, not like this.

He stumbled away from the wagon, trying to put some distance between his Gifts and the battle. He tried again to ground and center, throwing all his strength into his shields. For a brief time, there was clarity, but it felt like he was bleeding from a mortal wound.

Eiven was easy to pick out in the crowd, curly black hair bent in concentration over a shattered body. "Eiven…" Kyminn's voice was thin with strain.

The Healer blinked, slowly focusing on Kyminn. "Kyminn? What…? What the hell…?"

"Foresight. Empathy. I can't shield this. It's too much…" he flushed in shame at the quaver he heard.

"Go. Now. Before you get hurt." There was command, but no condemnation in it. The Healer's attention had already returned to his patient.

Kyminn hesitated for a moment, then using only voice and a piercing whistle, recalled the mastiffs. The dogs had been constantly patrolling, circling, watching over the little group at the aid station. Kyminn led them through the crowd until he found Tysen. The Healer had a water skin in his hand and, judging from the dark marks, had just splashed it over his own head.

Kyminn made an impulsive decision. "Ty, I can't stay. I'm leaving Bull with you. He'll obey you. Take him with you when you go…out there. Tell him to seek. He can tell the difference between the living and the dead." That last was bleak. His vision was starting to blur again and his stomach was already roiling. Tysen simply nodded and waved his friend on his way.

His next destination wasn't far away, green robes caked with water, mud and the dark iron of blood. "Cydris. I…can't stay here. I have to go back to the camp. Eiven knows. I'm going to leave Tip with you – Tysen has Bull. He follows all the usual dog commands but you should know two more: Guard and Seek." His explanation was halted as he retched, his stomach empty but convulsing just the same. "I…ask Tysen. I have to go." Kyminn knelt down and linked to the dog, trying to shield them both from the mental onslaught. _:Obey. Guard. Protect. Is part of the Pack.:_ Tip snuffled Cydris, giving her hand a brief lick before sitting obediently at the Healer's feet.

"Kyminn…I…go." She pushed him into the nearest wagon of wounded, supporting him as he staggered. He felt her offer him a touch of her strength to bolster his shields, but nodded when he declined her gift. He simply pulled inside himself as best he could, letting all his strength flow into his shields, and waited.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 _A/N Thanks for your patience everyone. Please bear with me a little while longer. I always knew I'd have to slow down on the pace of updates when I started to find work, so at least the delay is for a good reason. That, plus some other (positive) background events have taken me far away from my computer for an extended period._

As the train of injured moved farther from the front, the pressure on Kyminn's shields lessened palpably. The pain of the wounded and dying beasts faded from his senses, leaving only the unpredictable surges of Foresight. There was little enough he could do about those save let them wash over him, letting the sights and sensations drift away like sand through his fingers. Now wasn't the time to record, retain. There was too much, an ever-changing avalanche of possibilities.

The strain on his Gifts had left him as drained as though he had accomplished a tremendous healing, but the flood of wounded had not even peaked yet. As the wagons drew up to the Healer's tents, he joined the hands unloading the bloody cargo.

Although not a warlike nation, Valdemar had bitter institutional memory of conflict and the procedures were well established. At the start of a battle or action, the majority of the Healers were sent forward to treat and assess as quickly as possible. A few - in this case it was Team Two - remained at the tents to receive the injured. As the conflict progressed on any given day, the Lord Marshall (or his staff) would reallocate resources as required. This usually meant that as the wounded moved to the rear, so did the Healers and porters.

Thus, it was that Kyminn found himself working side by side with unfamiliar faces. No questions were asked as to why Kyminn had returned and he offered no explanation. It made no difference, there was far too much to do to worry about such details. Broken men and women passed under his hands in a seemingly endless stream. Names and faces became simply "crushed chest", "internal bleeding", "traumatic amputation".

As the wards and beds began to fill, the various Healers returned in a trickle. It was past dark when Kyminn was able to pause long enough to realize that Cydris, Eiven and Tysen had not yet returned. He worked his way outside, to where the latest batch of wounded were being unloaded and stopped a porter. "I'm looking for Healers Eiven, Tysen and Cydris. They were on team six and should have been back midafternoon. Do you know where they are?" The man simply shook his head and gave an apologetic shrug before grabbing the next stretcher.

Kyminn repeated the question to several other porters, expanding it to include Tysen's distinctive height. Two men indicated that they knew to whom he was referring, but could shed no light on the Healers' current whereabouts.

Genuinely worried now, Kyminn debated tracking down Beck or Mennis and outlining his concerns. He had made up his mind to do so and was trying to determine the whereabouts of the senior Healers when a voice hailed him.

"Hoi! Are you the fellow that's looking for some Healers?" The man's common workman's garb gave no hint as to his identity.

"Yes!" Kyminn described the group again, emphasizing Tysen's stature.

"Are they the ones with the dogs?" The man looked as weary as Kyminn himself.

"Yes! Two mastiffs in armour!" Kyminn nearly pounced on the man in his eagerness.

"Aye. They kept those folks back. They'll be on the last wagon of the night. Seems those dogs do a right good job of finding the injured, even if ones alive in a heap of those that aren't. They tracked down more folks than any other two teams put together. I seen them just a couple of candlemarks agone and I'm on my way back with my wagon to fetch them and any other injured. Don't worry Healer, they'll be back safe soon."

"Thank you!" Kyminn clasped the man's hand in gratitude. "It's just they're overdue and all…"

"Aye. It's a worrisome time Healer. I'm afeared we'll all be missing someone or other before we're through with this terrible thing."

 _SCENE BREAK_

As the carter had predicted, the other three returned on one of the last wagons. They had ranged far afield in their search for wounded and only darkness, as well as worry about lurking Tedrels, had ended their work. As they, in turn, climbed down to help unload this last group of wounded, Eiven gave Kyminn a weary nod and clasped his shoulder. The older Healer waved at where the two weary dogs, now covered in mud, blood and other rank effluvia, waited to jump down from the wagon. "That was well done Kyminn. Very well done indeed."

 _SCENE BREAK_

The fighting in the little valley continued for several more days. Now that he knew what to expect, Kyminn was better able to shield against the assault on his Gifts. His ever-unpredictable Foresight though, continued to be a problem. On some days, it troubled him so little that he was able to function perfectly well. On other days, it was so persistent and intense that he had to withdraw early. Only one person dared comment on Kyminn's early withdrawal, with a muttered suggestion of cowardice. Kyminn was so taken aback at the charge that he didn't even know how to begin to address it. As it turned out, he needn't have bothered. As soon as the Healer in question voiced the word "Coward", several of his fellows rounded on him. When Kyminn left, one of them, an Empath, was re-educating the fellow using words that described the offender's dubious intelligence, education, parentage and species in exquisitely savage detail.

It was gratifying, if somewhat disconcerting, for him to discover that he apparently had such stalwart champions among his fellows. Quietly grateful, he resolved to do nothing to mar that good opinion. He simply did his best and left the rest to fate.

After nearly a fortnight of skirmishes and several pitched battles, the Valdemarans awoke one morning to find the Tedrels had faded back into the depths of Karse. Constrained by the King's order to remain on the Valdemaran side of the border, the army could only scout and wait. Although the soldiers rested, the same was not true of the Healers. With no new wounded to treat, they could turn their full talents to those in the wards. The pause let some of the more lightly injured Heal enough to return to service, while the most seriously injured could be sent back to Haven or other Healing centers for long-term treatment. With so many able hands to manage the patients, Kyminn's own attention shifted to the wounded mounts. Up until this point, he'd been unable to do more than spend a candlemark here and there and he welcomed the chance to give the beasts his full attention.

 _SCENE BREAK_

It was another Foreseer who gave the warning this time, but the result was the same. This time the army had a scant few candlemarks warning of the coming attack. The result was chaos as the units formed up and departed on a forced march while those behind scrambled to tear down the camp and move the supply train. They had so little warning this time that the Tedrels actually managed to penetrate nearly seven miles deep into Valdemar, ground that took days for the Valdemarans to win back.

This then, became Kyminn's summer. The Tedrels would move north in savage, whirlwind attacks, cutting their way into the Valdemar countryside. Again and again the army would close in and drive them back. As the Tedrels withdrew, they left death and fire behind them, fading back over the border only to strike again somewhere else. It became a summer of constant movement; one of mud, blood, sweat, and tears. More than once, the Healers simply slept on the ground beside their patients, too exhausted to move any farther. Having a tent to sleep in became a longed-for luxury, including one memorable, miserable night where Kyminn and the others simply lay down in the wet grass and pulled the canvas of the tent over themselves in protection from the rain. Tip and Bull joined them, welcome warmth on the cold earth.

The dogs, once considered merely a tolerated aberration, had become valued members of the team. Their ability to quickly find the living amongst the dead saved many lives. More than one Healer admitted that he felt safer moving about the battlefield when the dogs were present, and more than once the mastiffs or another war-dog sounded the alert when Tedrels were near.

 _SCENE BREAK_

"Watch out!" the warning scream came a moment too late as the previously unconscious patient surged up in the bed. Kyminn swore pungently as the movement jerked the torn artery out of his hands.

"HOLD HIM DOWN!" Kyminn threw one leg over the Tedrel's chest, trying vainly to pin the man down while his hands plunged back into the man's bloody thigh. It would have been comical, had it not been so brutal – Kyminn half kneeling with one leg on the man's chest while he frantically tried to clamp the spurting vessel.

Two other porters threw themselves onto the writhing Tedrel, adding their weight to Kyminn's. It helped, somewhat. Then it was Kyminn's turn to scream when the Tedrel twisted in the bed and set his teeth into Kyminn's calf. Kyminn couldn't see what was happening, he was far too busy trying to keep the patient from bleeding to death. They made a bizarre quartet: Kyminn trying to sew the mangled artery, one Valdemaran trying to hold the man's leg still enough for Kyminn to work, the second Valdemaran trying to pin the thrashing Tedrel while trying to pry open the man's jaws at the same time.

As suddenly as it had started, the man's thrashing ceased, jaws releasing Kyminn's bloodied leg as the man slumped into the profound depths of a Healing sleep.

"Hold it there Kym," Cydris directed, adding her hands to the open gash. He simply nodded – this had become an old duet, the two of them side by side as they stitched and knitted bodies back together. As he had with Tysen moons before, Kyminn had fallen into a smooth duo with Cydris. They spoke only in quiet murmurs as one stitched and the other sealed vessels with power of her Gift alone. Unlike Tysen, Kyminn was able to link with Cydris enough to feed her some of his strength. It wasn't a perfect match – his power appeared to her as diffuse and thin, but she'd learned how to tease its strength into the most delicate of operations. It was a curious intimacy, this linking of minds while their hands met in the warmth of a patient's body.

"That's it," Cydris straightened with a tired sigh, drawing her hands back. "I could wish they weren't always so…"

"Berserk?" Kyminn smiled weakly as he limped over to a nearby bench. One of the aides had tied a bandage around his calf, but it still bled sluggishly and hurt like fire.

She shrugged and gestured for him to put his leg up. "Berserk will do. We really never take any of them prisoner. The only ones we ever encounter are those that are brought in unconscious." Practiced hands untied the red-stained rag to expose the wound. She frowned and looked at Kyminn. "That's worse than I thought. I think you may lose some of that tissue."

He nodded faintly. His calf was throbbing fiercely.

A cool touch to his temples and the pain faded to a dull ache. "This is going to take a while. It's pretty mangled." She began to carefully, gently clean the wound.

"I wish I knew why they act like that," Kyminn hissed a bit as her ministrations overcame the pain block somewhat. "We treat them well – far better than they treat our prisoners at any rate."

She hesitated, and when she spoke, her voice was low and bitter. "I know that it's in our oath to treat everyone, that our job is to heal the bodies and let justice take care of everything else, but some days, it's hard."

Kyminn gave her shoulder an understanding squeeze. They had been in the group that happened upon a group of Valdemarans who had been captured by a Tedrel raiding party. Of the seventeen soldiers, only three remained alive, pitiful, broken wrecks of men. One of them, maimed beyond hope, begged for the release of the havens. Healer Jan Beck had granted the man's request, Kyminn and Cydris cradling the tortured body as the argonel finally gave the man relief. Afterwards, Kyminn found himself alone in the dark shadows, his arms tight around Tip as he wept. This thing, this war, was an open wound, bleeding their very souls.

Her hand, tinged with Kyminn's own blood, crept up and covered the hand on her shoulder. Just a moment of unspoken understanding and shared pain.

At last she sat back, tucking the last corner of bandage neatly around his calf. "I don't suppose it will do any good to tell you to stay off of it." She caught his look and gave a wry snort. "Thought so. It's only half Healed and is stitched up. I think I got it clean, but we'll have to see. For tonight though," she rapped him sharply on the forehead with her finger, "You are going to bed. A real bed. Here in the ward. You need to rest – you lost quite a bit of blood you know. I'll tell Eiven. And I'll make sure the dogs get fed. Go. Now."

He regarded her with some bemusement. He'd known for some time that she was a very intelligent and capable Healer, but to hear her speak so authoritatively was a bit…strange. He was about to give her a flip response but caught the determined 'Healer' gleam in her eye. Instead of wit, he simply gave her a meek "Yes ma'am." But he laughed anyway when she blushed.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 _A/N Mischief managed. Chaos complete. Hopefully back to a more regular schedule of updates._

With a muffled groan, Kyminn lowered himself down onto one of the folding camp chairs in the mess tent. Cydris merely grunted and reached out with her foot, snagging another chair and dragging it over towards them. With a brief nod of thanks, Kyminn carefully levered his injured leg up and propped it on the chair.

"How's your patient?" Cydris blew on her mug of scalding tea to bring it closer to a drinkable heat.

"The woman with the shattered shoulder and humerus?" At Cydris's affirmative nod, Kyminn gave a small shrug. "The bones are utterly smashed, especially the lower section, just above the elbow. The elbow is intact though, as is the remainder of her arm. Ideally, we'd like to preserve the limb if at all possible."

Cydris took a tentative sip of the tea and determined it was still far too hot. "That's an awful long course of bone healing. I'm not sure we have the Healer resources for it."

Kyminn massaged his aching thigh. Although he diligently used the prescribed cane, his still-uneven gait was a strain on the other muscles. "I know. We're pretty sure we're going to send her on to the closest major Temple of Healing, or possibly even to Haven. If we can find the resources, we can save the limb. Even if we amputate the arm, we'd still have to manage the shoulder. Really, that's what decided us – if we have to spend the time bone-healing the shoulder, we should try to save as much as we possibly can."

"Do you think she can manage the trip though? The closest major Temple is still nearly twenty-three days' travel away and last I heard, they were pretty overwhelmed." The tea was finally cool enough for her to attempt another drink. Better. Still very hot, but better.

"We're going to try to pin it. I've done something very similar before, but in that case, the span between pinning and bone-healing was much shorter. We'll have to send a Healer back with her, of course, but Mennis says there are some more Healers on their way. The Heralds and their Companions are bringing them, so they should be here fairly quickly."

"That is _good_ news!" Cydris brightened as much as her fatigue permitted. "There just aren't enough of us for the amount of injured we're seeing."

Kyminn nodded in agreement. He fished around in his pocket for a moment and emerged with a small cloth sachet. He carefully untied it to reveal some pale-yellow crystals and crumbs. At his gesture, Cydris brought her tea closer. Her eyebrows raised in questioning surprise as he carefully dropped one of the lumps into her tea.

"What….?" It was said with bafflement as Kyminn used his belt knife to stir the tea. He was grinning.

"From where I come from, up in the north, we tap some of the hardwood trees for their sap. It's sweet, and when you boil it down, it makes a tasty syrup or sugar."

"Maple syrup. They've served at the Collegium from time to time, as a special treat. But that's usually darker yellow."

"Well, as it turns out, you can do the same thing with birch sap. There's no maple trees this far south, but the locals have discovered that birch sap can be used for the same thing. It's just not as sweet and you need more of it, but it'll do in a pinch."

Cydris took a sip of her tea, a slow smile blooming as she savored the touch of sweetness. "It's delicious! However did you come by it?"

"Somebody traded it to a local for something, and then it got traded again. Eventually, it wound up with one of the cooks. I managed to inveigle some out of her, especially when I told her it was for you. She says to thank you for the lambs-wool you found for her bunions, by the way." Kyminn looked quite pleased with himself.

"Reprobate," she gave him a playful smack. "You know I'd have done that for anyone. The poor woman could hardly get her shoes on, her feet were so sore. And her having to stand all day, making food for the rest of us!"

"I know you would have. And you and I know that some people would have put a cook with sore feet at the very bottom of the list. She knows it too – so let her say thank you in her own way."

Cydris reddened a bit, but subsided. "What are you going to do with the rest of it?"

"Ah. I'm hoping you – and your friend the cook – can help me with that. You see, in addition to the birch sugar, someone else also gave me this..." 'This' turned out to be a rough fired clay crock, just big enough to hold a cup or so of something. Inside was a red, viscous liquid.

Cydris gave it a sniff, and at Kyminn's nod of assent, dipped her finger in the liquid. "Sour cherry?" she guessed.

"It was supposed to be jam. But it doesn't have enough sweetener to set, so it won't keep. But it's got a lovely flavor. I was thinking about your patient with the head injury…" he trailed off.

"Private Bell," Cydris began to nod with growing enthusiasm. "We still hope we can restore at least some of the vision to that left eye, but he's just still so weak! With his face so smashed and his jaw wired shut, he can only eat liquid through a tube. He's had so much meat broth that he just can't stomach it anymore. He's barely eating now."

"Exactly. I thought that if we made a very thin oat mush, and flavoured it with some of this cherry syrup, he might start eating again." Kyminn grinned at her.

"And if we experiment with some other flavors and seasonings, maybe we can introduce enough variety to restart his appetite. Thank you Kyminn!" Cydris gave him a spontaneous hug, making it his turn to blush.

She drew back from the hug with a faint frown of concern. "Kyminn…how's your leg?" Her Healing sense drew her gaze to Kyminn's leg.

"A bit sore, and I think it might be infected," he admitted. He added quickly, "It was going to be the next thing I mentioned to you, I swear!"

She leaned back and regarded him appraisingly. Satisfied he had been telling the truth, she gently pulled back his trouser leg and began to remove the bandage.

Kyminn was far from the first in the Healing Company to have been injured during the war. He was simply its most recent victim. First, of course, had been the two porters killed on the very first day. To his secret shame, Kyminn could no longer remember their names, or even if he at one time even _known_ their names.

In the intervening season, three more porters had been seriously injured on the battlefield, although not by Tedrels. One had been hurt after tripping while carrying a stretcher while two others had been struck by pain-maddened horses. A fire in one of the tents where the aides slept, caused when a lamp's hanging brace snapped, killed one aide outright and horribly maimed six others. A Healer had been gravely injured when a Tedrel raiding party succeeded in penetrating the army's flank. A squad of Guardsmen had killed the raiders, at the cost of four of their own. The Healer had been stabbed in the back, nearly bleeding to death from the deep puncture wound to his kidney. Only the expenditure of a great deal of Healing strength had saved the man's life, and he now recovered at a distant temple.

Perhaps the hardest blow to the Healers had been the loss of Healer Jan Beck. When the senior failed to appear for his scheduled shift one morning, one of the porters went to find him. The Guardsman found the Healer still in his bunk, neatly curled up, one hand tucked under his cheek. A faint smile on the Healer's face suggested that his passage to the Havens had been a gentle one.

If Mennis was the brains of the company, the one who provided structure and order, Jan Beck had been the Company's heart. A minor Empath, Jan was the one always there when someone felt overwhelmed or lost. Kyminn knew he was far from the only member of the company to have wept on the older man's shoulder, or who had sought out the man's gentle good humour and prosaic wisdom. If Delassia had been Kyminn's mentor in things academic, Jan Beck had been his mentor in the humanity of healing. Jan's heart, which had never failed others, had finally failed the healer himself.

Kyminn shook off his morose melancholy and returned his attention to his leg. As he had expected, the wound showed the hot red warning of incipient infection. He grimaced. "I swear Cydris, I've done everything I was supposed to. I'm not one of those stupid Healers who makes the worst kind of patient!"

She patted his thigh absently. "I know Kym. And honestly, I'm not completely surprised. As you know, human bites are especially nasty. I'm afraid we're going to have to open it up and clean it, along with expending quite a bit more on getting the infection out. You, my friend, are now officially a patient for at least the next few days."

Kyminn expected the find the next few days boring and frustrating. Instead, he found he was actually grateful for Cydris's insistence that he be treated as a patient. The need to carefully conserve their Healing strength meant that Kyminn's options for pain relief were either the poppy infusion or doing without. He accepted the poppy for the first two days, during the worst of the procedures. Even stuporous, he was aware of the pain as they debrided the infected tissue, although the poppy ensured the memory was transient. On the third day, he judged the wound healed enough that he could abstain from the poppy, and while he didn't regret the decision, he found himself mightily wishing for the relief it had offered.

The fact that he was bed or chair-bound changed his workload somewhat, but as soon as he was sufficiently recovered, he began treating patients once again. A stool, a high foot rest and some other adjustments meant that he could work while seated. There was too much to do for them to waste any ability.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Summer faded into fall and the war dragged on. The skeletal branches of trees were scratching the overcast skies of near-winter when they finally got the word: the scouts, strategists and Foreseers all agreed that the Tedrels had withdrawn. The war was in abeyance, for now.

The disassembly of the Valdemaran war engine took place in stages. The levied troops would winter in one of several nearby Guard bases. The beasts, materiel and various support staff would similarly be divided. There they would rest, repair, and refit in preparation for being reconstituted next spring.

Couriers, both Herald and Guard, flew back and forth with messages, orders, and instructions. Many of the Healers departed with the wounded. The caravan would break off small tendrils at various towns and temples, with the final group returning to the Healer's Hall in Haven. Here the most gravely injured would be provided the long-term Healing and rehabilitation they so desperately needed.

Eiven's team got their own marching orders in similar stages. First to depart were Eiven and Cydris. They would be spending the winter at one of the Healing Temples. There, Cydris would formally finish her internship. Eiven's accompanying letter made it clear that this was mostly a formality to satisfy the traditionalists in the Healer's Hall. Five moons of battlefield Healing had given her a depth of experience few novices could match.

The next to depart was Tysen. He, along with two other of the company's Healers, would be going to Warford, there to assist the levies wintering there. With new recruits arriving in a steady trickle, it would no doubt prove to be a busy post.

Following Tysen's departure, Kyminn found himself somewhat at loose ends. Most of the camp had redeployed and no wounded remained. He busied himself with the few beasts left, but found the relaxed pace oddly unsettling. He had begun to wonder if he had been forgotten when the Herald found him.

"Healer Kyminn?" The Herald was someone Kyminn didn't know, a saturnine middle-aged man, sober and quiet.

"That would be me. How can I help you, Herald?" Kyminn gestured to one of the few remaining seats, an unused cot in the empty ward.

"I have your orders. The King's Own thought you might have questions, so he sent them by Herald courier." The man gave a faint shrug. "I had a number of other stops on my courier circuit. Please don't read anything into the delay."

Kyminn gave a wry smile of relief. "Thank you. It's been a…complicated year."

"So I've been given to understand." The Herald produced an array of documents from his bag. Sorting through them, he passed a letter over the Kyminn. "This is from both the Dean of Healing and the King's Own. It should contain the bulk of your instructions."

With a mix of both curiosity and trepidation, Kyminn carefully broke the seal on the envelope. A quick glance to the last page confirmed that yes, as usual, it was signed by both Talamir and Tannel.

 _"_ _Healer Kyminn Danner,_

 _The enclosed list of lands, estates, and properties have been levied by the crown to provide materiel to the war effort. You are requested and required by the crown_ (!) _to attend these properties to collect the required levies."_

The enclosure was a list of several noble estates and properties. Beside each was a number indicating how many horses the owner was required to contribute to the war effort. The figures ranged from a low of seven to a high of nearly 30. In the last case, several were mules or other dray beasts.

 _"_ _You are enjoined from accepting or requiring as levy any mare, stallion or other bloodstock whose loss might compromise, harm or in other way impair the owner's ability to maintain his or her lands and income."_

That part was pretty clear. He wouldn't be taking anyone's herd stallions or the best of the bloodlines. He hoped the nobles in question realized that he wasn't there to ruin their breeding programs.

 _"_ _You are further authorized to request from the lands, estates, and properties any material or personnel support required to execute the levy. The landowner will, in turn, apply to the crown for tax relief equivalent to the support requested."_

The first part made his eyebrows rise in surprise. In essence, it gave him a blank chit, drawn on the crown, to ask for anything he thought he wanted. He actually found the second part reassuring – proof to the landowner that Kyminn himself would be audited afterwards.

 _"_ _On collecting the required levy, you will transport the levy to the indicated Guard station. During transport, you are requested and required to begin such training activities as may be feasible. Should you so require it, the landowner will provide additional personnel to assist with training and transport."_

At least he didn't have to wrangle several dozen horses through the midwinter storms all by himself.

 _In the event of dispute between the crown's agent (Kyminn Danner) and the landowner, mediation will be made available through the Heraldic Circle._

Kyminn looked up at the Herald, his expression questioning.

"Your trip is timed to coincide with that of the Herald on circuit. You'll be visiting fewer places than she does, and you'll be staying longer. Assuming all goes as planned, she should be available sometime within a fortnight of your arrival. She'll render Herald's judgement on any disputes that arise." The Herald paused for a moment. "Herald Talamir has assured me that you can be trusted not to abuse these orders, but I want to interject my own thoughts on this point. You do realize, don't you, what an extraordinary set of orders these are?"

Kyminn nodded gravely. "I do Herald. Very much so. To be honest," he glanced down at the astonishing missive, "I have a lot of concerns over this. Mostly that I'm not noble. I'm just a country boy from up north. These orders are not going to sit well with a lot of people."

The Herald touched another document, this one a scroll bearing an elaborate seal. "The crown is very well aware of that fact. As Talamir explained it, that's one of the reason you were given this job. You may not know this, but the nobility seldom…see eye to eye on many matters." He gave a twist of smile at the delicate phrasing.

"If you mean they shift alliances, plots and pecking order more than a yard full of hens, then yes, I do know. To be honest, I've tried very hard to stay out of it." A grimace.

"And that," the Herald affirmed, "Is one of the reasons you were selected. You are an unknown, from – sorry – nowhere. You have no allies, no debts, no strings to pull and no ulterior motives. Your Healer's greens imply you are trustworthy and you have this," the finger tapped the scroll again, "to fall back on."

Kyminn gingerly picked up the scroll. The quality of the parchment – was that actually vellum? – was astonishing. Even more astonishing was the red and gold seal affixed to the bottom of the document. At the Herald's nod of assent, Kyminn carefully unrolled the document.

He got no further than "By our own hand," and the astonishing signature at the bottom before the scroll fell from nerveless fingers. "Is that what I think it is?"

The Herald casually retrieved the scroll, placing it firmly back in Kyminn's hand and closing the Healer's fingers around it. "If you mean 'Is it a Royal Warrant, signed by the king, confirming you as a representative of the crown and Circle, and instructing everyone who reads it to provide you all possible support?', then yes, it's what you think." The Herald permitted a ghost of a smile to break across his face.

"Dear gods…" Kyminn seemed to have momentarily lost the power of speech. He eyed the scroll as though it had suddenly developed fangs.

"The King and Circle expect," and the Herald tapped the scroll for emphasis. "That you will exercise a great deal of discretion in the use of this warrant."

"Herald," Kyminn said with feeling, "If I have my way, it won't ever see the light of day."

"Good." A sharp nod. "And in case you were wondering, all the estates in question have been made aware of the levy. They have been _instructed_ ," and the last was dry, "to have all suitable beasts available for you." He tilted his head, his expression expectant.

"I see." And Kyminn did. "Am I right in thinking that some people might be a little less…diligent…in executing those instructions? As in 'I'm sorry Healer, but I sold that gelding last month', or 'He's been sent around the outlying farms to stand as stud, not sure when he'll be back'?"

"Exactly. And that's the other reason you were selected for this task. It would be completely unethical and unthinkable for someone to use the mind-reading gift to see if someone were lying about this. However…" The Herald trailed off.

"It is completely ethical for me to question beasts as to whether any of their stablemates are missing, or have a crow fly over a less-accessible pasture to see if its occupied." Kyminn finished for him.

A faint smile. "One begins to see, Master Kyminn, why the King's Own tapped you for this task."

"One hopes," Kyminn replied dryly, "That the King's Own hasn't overestimated my ability."

"One hopes." The Herald fished out a final letter and passed it over to Kyminn. "I think you'll find this one somewhat easier to swallow. At least it doesn't include a royal warrant."

The letter was a short missive from Tannel. Somehow, word of Kyminn's impromptu use of the dogs to search for wounded on the battlefield had made its way back to Healers. The Dean requested that, if circumstances permitted, Kyminn purchase such dogs as he felt might be suitable for search and rescue work. The letter made it clear, however, that the levy was to remain his top priority. Somewhat bemused, Kyminn carefully tucked the letter alongside the other documents. It was shaping up to be a very busy winter.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Kyminn supposed he made a pretty strange sight as he rode through the gates of the first estate on his list. A travel-worn Healer, astride a well-bred warhorse. Behind him trailed a second horse bearing packs and a large brindle mastiff riding pillion. A charcoal grey mastiff paced beside them, the lean, scarred head swinging alertly.

As the bizarre train arrived in the courtyard, a servant stepped out to greet them. If he was surprised by Kyminn's appearance and entourage, he hid it admirably. "Welcome to Seven Springs, estate of Lord Kellix of Dunn. How may I be of assistance, Healer?" The man offered a polite bow.

Kyminn presented his letter of introduction. Although ornate with seals and flourishes, the letter did not contain the same political club as the royal warrant. "Healer Kyminn Danner, agent of the crown. I've been sent to see Lord Kellix on the matter of the levy."

Servantly eyebrows rose fractionally. Clearly Kyminn was of somewhat opaque standing. Untitled, yet due the respect of both his Greens and agent's status. The briefest of pauses, then "Very well sir. I'll have someone see to your horses. Would it be acceptable to you if your dogs were housed in milord's kennels? I assure you, they will be well treated."

Kyminn had already reached out with his gifts and touched the minds of milord's dogs. One and all offered him a sense of happiness and wellbeing. Kyminn was confident Tip and Bull would be well treated. "That would be fine, thank you." This time, Kyminn had come prepared with leashes and snapped the clips onto the dogs' collars.

The servant seemed unperturbed by the idea that Kyminn was willing to wait in the blustery courtyard for the dog-boy and grooms before proceeding into the manor proper. Kyminn wasn't sure, but thought he detected a flicker of approval from the underling.

Animals suitably handed off, Kyminn was more than happy to follow the servant out of the chilly yard and into the manor house. Part fortified manor and part keep, the place had clearly been built with defense in mind although it looked as though it had been some time since foes had dared beset these walls. His recent military experience caused Kyminn to nod in approval on seeing the cleared approaches, well-kept masonry walls and alert sentries. Apparently, Lord Kellix of Dunn was either expecting an attack or believed in prudent preparation.

"Milord Healer, Lord Kellix is currently seeing to duties in another part of the estate. He is expected to return sometime this afternoon. I will send someone immediately to advise him of your arrival, but the soonest he would be able to return is at least three candlemarks. Would you like to rest and refresh yourself in the meantime?"

Kyminn mulled this over briefly, but his response was prompt and friendly. "Thank you. If your duties require you to inform your master that I'm here, by all means do so. However, he needn't hurry back on my account. While the levy is important, it's not so urgent that Lord Kellix needs to cut short his other duties. Midafternoon will give us ample time to discuss the matter. As for the other, yes please, I would appreciate a chance to clean up and change before meeting milord." Kyminn gave a small smile, "And if it's not too much trouble, if there's something hot on the fire – tea or soup – anything really – I'd very much appreciate it."

The servant bowed again. "Certainly, Healer. I'll have a tray sent shortly. Would a half-candlemark from now give you time to refresh yourself?" Kyminn was pretty sure this was the servant's way of saying politely, "Have a bath and change, you smell like horse."

Kyminn stifled a grin and tried to affect a sober nod. "Yes, that would do admirably, thank you."

Kyminn's brief stint in the visiting instructor's wing at Healers had exposed him to a bit of the noble lifestyle. Although he had never become comfortable with the notion of having servants, he certainly respected the people who performed such work and understood their roles. Similarly, he was able to appreciate – and refrain from gawking at – the elegant interior of the manor.

If a home could tell you the nature of the family that lived there, Kyminn thought he was rather going to like Lord Kellix. The manor was certainly not a new structure, but effort had clearly been expended in maintenance. His woodsman's eye identified a number of local woods in the trim and paneling, and he recognized the inherent artistry in the simple reliefs and embellishments. Whoever had built this home had managed the fine line between "elegant" and "ostentatious" with a delicate touch. Subsequent generations had continued the tradition, providing furniture that was comfortable as well as beautiful. Intricate embroidery in cushions and panels showed signs of expert and loving repair. Clearly, Baron Dunn would rather invest time in maintaining quality goods than waste coin buying new. Kyminn was far from an expert, but he'd learned enough in the last two years to recognize when something was of a quality intended to last for years.

Kyminn's room proved to be a small guest suite. His mental assessment of Lord Kellix rose another notch. He'd debated whether or not he would be welcomed as a representative of the crown or a servant of it at these visits. One would grant him a room in the "noble" part of the house, the other a room in the servant's. He flipped another mental coin, trying to decide if it was the letter or his Greens which had gotten him this room. He tentatively decided it was the letter, but time would tell.

Bathed and in his best Greens, Kyminn was gratified to see the kitchen had provided a substantial tray. After moons of catch-as-catch can army food, followed by trail rations, the odors coming from under the covered tray made his mouth water. Hot turkey broth, flavoured with spicy pepper and juniper oil provided a surprisingly tasty soup. The fresh baked bread, honey butter and soft cheese were sheer ambrosia. An array of sliced meats, sausages, pickles, chutneys, and cheeses filled the tray. Each combination offered a unique flavour for him to savor. Finally, there was a generous slice of spice cake, topped with glazed pear and whipped cream. He didn't bother to feel guilty at his gluttony. Too many months of privation had given him a profound appreciation of every crumb he received.

The polite tap at the door actually woke him from an unaccustomed mid-day doze. Between the hearty meal and the past few months, it seemed he slept whenever afforded the opportunity. He'd checked on the dogs and horses though, and found all four comfortably dozing off their own full bellies. Sleepy, happy thoughts assured him he had nothing to worry about on that score.

"Milord Healer, Lord Kellix has returned. If you're able, he'll see you immediately." It was a different servant this time, but equally as professional and polite. Kyminn paused only long enough to gather up his credentials and gestured the servant to lead the way.

Lord Kellix had clearly both taken Kyminn at his word not to cut short his duties, but had also assigned the Healer a high priority. The Baron had removed his outer wear and much of the mud had been brushed from his boots, but clearly he'd sent for Kyminn as soon as decently possible. In some circles, the baron's workaday appearance would have constituted a calculated insult in not bothering to dress in a higher state for this meeting. Alternatively, it could mean that this was a man who didn't stand on appearances but preferred to tackle matters as they arose.

Kyminn gave a polite bow and offered the letter of introduction. "Lord Kellix, Baron Dunn, my name is Healer Kyminn Danner. I have been sent as the crown's representative to obtain the required levy of horses for the war effort."

A bluff nod and the Baron took the letter. "We've been expecting you." He paused to review the letter carefully, reading it twice to make sure he'd not missed anything. Another nod and he returned the letter to Kyminn. "Sit, Healer. We should talk."

Kyminn waited until the Baron had seated himself, then sat in the chair opposite. This small library was clearly a favorite room of the Barons, to judge by the comfortable indentations in the cushions and the slightly shabby air. There was nothing shabby about the Baron's piercing gaze, however.

"I'm given to understand you were there, at the front. Is that so?" The baron accepted a glass of mulled wine from the servant and Kyminn, therefore, did the same.

"Yes, milord Baron. I was. I was both at the front and working in the wards at the Healer's company." Kyminn took a sip. Even mulled, the wine was of an excellent vintage.

"Ah. War's an awful thing. Awful. I served in the Guard myself, you know. I was the third son so, no chance of me holding the title." A sad smile. "My older brother, he was killed in a bandit raid. Not married yet, so no one to pass the line. My second brother died of a winter fever. We lost a lot of folks that year. My brother, his wife and their two daughters." He looked down at his wine in soft memory. "So, here I am. The one no one expected. But…that's the way of it, isn't it young man?"

"It can be sometimes, yes milord." Kyminn's voice was gentle.

"But we can't live in the past." The baron brought himself back to the present. "Now it's a new war, with an old foe. My son-in-law, he's serving, so are two of my nephews. And now you want my best horses too."

Kyminn braced himself a bit, but said only, "Not I, milord baron. The king. And it's not a matter of want, it's a matter of need. Of urgent need." He thought for a moment, before he continued. "Milord, you run an estate. You deal with numbers, figures and calculations every day. How many mouths to feed on so many acres. How much grain to keep for seed and how much to sell. How many sheep can you keep before you can't manage the wool or worse, flood the market? Sadly, milord, the king's levy is also a matter of numbers. It might surprise you to know that for every man or woman we lost to battle, we lost a bit more than one and a quarter beasts. Does that surprise you? I know it did me, and I've got the gift for animal healing, so I already knew an awful lot of horses were hurt."

The baron regarded Kyminn thoughtfully. "I wasn't begrudging the king his horses Healer. I just wish it wasn't necessary at all. I expect you feel the same way."

"I do sir, very much so." Kyminn tried to suppress a shudder at the memory of how his Foresight had abused his senses for the past months. "Like every Valdemaran, I wish the Tedrels would disappear and Karse would just leave us in peace. Unfortunately, unless the gods step in, it's not going to happen like that. The sad fact of the matter is that horses are bigger targets so they are more likely to get hit than their riders. Also, you or I can heal from a broken bone, horses usually don't. And, when it comes to spending healing resources, horses come a distant second."

"I know lad. I know. And, as I said, I'll not begrudge the king his levy. I've brought down all my own stock and the best from my tenant farmers. If it's their beasts you take, I'll have no choice but to replace it with one of my own. I'll not have my tenants starving for want of a dray beast."

"And the king doesn't want that either sir, I know that for certain. I know how many generations are represented in some of these bloodlines and the king wants to ensure there's something left to build with." Kyminn leaned forward in his earnest attempt to convince the baron.

"Maybe you do at that, Healer. Now. How can Seven Springs serve the king?"

Kyminn hid his sigh of relief. "My lord baron, it's late in the day. I don't want to cause your grooms to miss their dinners over this and doing it right shouldn't be a quick thing. I was wondering if I might see your breeding book. And if you could point out which bloodlines you're trying most to preserve, I can see what I can do to accommodate that."

The baron looked a trifle uneasy. Pedigree records and breeding plans were considered somewhat proprietary, representing as they did many years of effort. Finally, he nodded. "So be it. I'll have them sent to your room. Will you join myself and my wife for dinner tonight?"

This was unexpected and Kyminn stammered a bit in his reply. "I…of course milord baron. You do my task great honor." He hesitated briefly. "I am not, myself, of noble birth and having recently come from the front I have only these Greens. I'm afraid I don't even have my formal uniform with me." A part of his mind lambasted the Heralds at the oversight that had sent him to meet with nobles without formal greens. For the touchy, such a sartorial insult could throw a great deal of sand in the wheels of his task.

"Tis no matter, Healer. We're not formal folk. You'll do as you are." The baron rose and Kyminn, perforce, rose with him. With a formal bow and murmur of thanks, Kyminn excused himself.

True to the baron's word, the requested books arrived promptly. The servant who delivered them also advised Kyminn to expect dinner at the seventh candlemark. Kyminn thanked the man and settled in. What he'd thought would be a dry recitation of listings and pedigrees turned out to be a fascinating series of documents. Although the Barony of Dunn were not noted breeders in the class of the Ashkevrons, they took their bloodlines seriously. Each entry in the pedigree book had a corresponding entry in the Horse Master's Record. The Record included everything from how complicated the birth had been to how the foal had developed and responded to training. Behaviour, quirks, markings, illnesses, training – the record provided a detailed picture of every blooded horse in the Baron's possession.

In addition to the pedigree and record books, the baron had also provided a list of the non-blooded animals. This list, naturally, contained far more names but considerably less detail. It did, however, contain important information - like the note that a tenant's mare had been put to one of the blooded stallions but her pregnancy had not yet been confirmed. That sort of information was critical if Kyminn were to make appropriate selections. He dug through his packs to find one of the many scraps of paper he habitually carried – usually for patient notes – and began compiling a tentative list of unsuitable animals. Without assessing health and temperament, he couldn't begin selecting suitable beasts. Better to eliminate instead.

He was still engrossed in the Records when the servant returned to escort him to dinner. He quickly ran a comb through his hair and straightened his robes. It would have to do.

Dinner proved to be a family event. In addition to Lord Kellix, Kyminn was introduced to the baroness, Lady Nida. Also present were the couple's three adult daughters. The eldest, Lady Lecia, was well advanced in pregnancy. The other two, Ellin and Neydra, were as yet unmarried. With no sons born to the baron, it was Lady Lecia's husband who would inherit the title. This then, was the son-in-law who was serving with the Guard. Dinner conversation further revealed that Lecia and her husband already had one child, Lord Kellix's grandson. The toddler was presently asleep in the nursery.

Kyminn had really no idea what to expect from a dinner in such company, but to his pleased surprise, he found himself enjoying it greatly. All of the women proved to be well read and articulate. Although Lady Nida gently requested they abstain from discussing the more gruesome details of the war during the meal, that didn't prevent an interesting discussion of tactics, speculation as to the Tedrel's next targets, the war's effect on the local economy and a number of related subjects. Kyminn was more than happy to avoid the grimmer aspects of the discussion but did share some of the lighter moments, especially some of the dogs' antics. At his mention of the mastiffs, Ellin's eyes lit up. "Father! We must have the dogs brought in so we can meet them!" She looked over at Kyminn, "They'll be alright in a strange building, won't they? If not, we can see them in the kennels."

"Ellin, you are not running off to the kennels to have Kyminn's dogs brought to dinner." Lady Nida was firm. "If you want to see them, please wait until after dessert."

Kyminn unsuccessfully tried to suppress his grin. "Lady Ellin, Tip and Bull are very well trained. They will manage the house just fine once I explain things to them. I'd be happy to show them off, if the baron consents."

Kellix waved a hand genially, "By all means. I'd like to see them myself. You say you have armour for them?"

"I do sir. I can bring it if you like."

"I'd appreciate that Healer. I must say, I'm rather curious to see this. I've heard of war-trained dogs, but I've never encountered any." The lord looked intrigued.

"If time permits before I have to leave, I'd be happy to show you how we spar with them, milord," Kyminn offered.

Kellix drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Would you be willing to provide a demonstration to some of my men? You see, we do get the occasional bandit raid and while they don't have war dogs, they do sometimes have curs that follow. Also, there's wolves and so forth. If there's a knack to taking down something like that, it would be good to know it."

A self-deprecating shrug prefaced Kyminn's reply. "I don't know about 'knack', milord, but I've learned a few things about how canines fight humans. It's possible there's something your men might find useful. It's also possible they know a few knacks I myself might find useful."

"So? Do some weapons work, do you? I thought Healers didn't go in for that sort of thing?" The comment was questioning, not accusatory.

"I do, milord. As you pointed out, these are awful times. I'll admit though, my own training began well before the war. I've travelled some and it just seemed a good idea. Not all Healers learn, although I understand the College is encouraging self-defense classes these days. Like anything else, not everyone is suited to it."

The baron nodded thoughtfully but didn't comment further. "Well then. Shall we adjourn? Healer, Cam here will show you back to your room and help you with that armor. Cam, we'll be in the front library as usual."

"Yes, m'lord." The man bowed politely. "Healer?"

It had been a very long time since Kyminn had enjoyed an evening so much. Lady Lecia excused herself early on, but Kyminn, the baron, Ellin and Neydra chatted long into the night. The mastiffs, of course, were in their glory. Warm, fed and with plenty of willing hands, the two indulged in a veritable orgy of scratches, pats and belly rubs. By the time they called it a night well after the midnight candle had been reset, there was no question of the dogs being sent back to the kennels. Between the wine, the soft bed and the familiar presence of the dogs on either side, Kyminn slept better than he had since the war had begun.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

In spite of the late night and deep sleep, ingrained habit still woke Kyminn around the sixth hour. For a few moments, he simply indulged in the temporary luxury of a feather bed. Finally, prodded by both nature and his duty, he rose and cleaned up.

Unable to put off the next step any longer, he dug out a map of the holding and settled into a chair. Much as he wanted to trust Lord Kellix, he was duty bound to make sure the baron had been honest in his dealings. Kyminn strongly suspected that the tenor of this household – the baron's care for his lands and tenants, the contented professionalism of the servants, the quiet pride of the household – were too deeply ingrained to be a façade presented for Kyminn's benefit. Still, it was possible that this was all a carefully constructed illusion, designed to conceal rather than reveal. With a sigh, Kyminn settled in and thinned his shields.

He came back to himself a candlemark later with an even deeper respect for Lord Kellix and his management. The images he'd gotten from the birds throughout the holding showed the same, consistent tale. Fences, sheds and stables were all in good repair, as were the small cottages that dotted the landscape. In the one or two cases where the buildings showed signs of disrepair, stacks of building materials showed that repairs, if not already underway, were planned. In addition to the general solid quality of the buildings, Kyminn's birds overflew more than a few horses. These, Kyminn examined more carefully. In each instance, the beast in question proved to be either a mare with foal at foot, or an older animal, unsuitable for inclusion in the levy. Clearly, Baron Kellix had done exactly as he had told Kyminn in bringing any possible suitable beast in for the levy.

Relieved, and now decidedly hungry, Kyminn left in search of breakfast. He politely stopped the first servant he encountered and asked the man where he might find something to eat.

"Good morning, Healer," the man nodded politely. "Milord asks if you would be willing to join him in the small dining room for a working breakfast. Breakfast is usually informal, with the meal set out on the sideboard and the family serving themselves. If that's not to your liking, I can have a tray made up and brought."

"Thank you, Cam, the working breakfast sounds perfect. If I may also ask, would someone be available to take the dogs back to the kennel? I think they'd be better off there for the day." A wry smile. "I'd take them myself, but I expect his lordship will be claiming all my time this morning."

Cam offered a small smile in return. "Certainly, Healer. I'll have it seen to right away. Should we anticipate the dogs having any concerns if approached by a stranger?" In other words, 'Will they bite?'

"They'll be fine, but if there's any concerns, I'll return and leash them if you'd like."

The man hesitated only briefly. "Thank you, Healer, but if you say there won't be a problem, then that will do. Can I show you to breakfast? It's the same room you dined in last evening."

"I can find it, thank you. I won't take up any more of your time." Kyminn clapped the startled man on the shoulder and sauntered off down the hallway.

Kyminn found the baron already settled into the dining room. To judge from the papers spread about, the baron was serious about it being a working breakfast. Glancing at the baron's plate, Kyminn was relieved to note that the baron had apparently only just begun his meal.

"Good morning, milord." Kyminn offered a formal bow.

"Good morning Healer Danner," the baron gestured to the sideboard. "Help yourself, or have the footman make you a plate if you wish. There's usually too much to do around here to indulge in a formal breakfast. We tend to save those for rest days and holidays."

"Thank you, sir." Kyminn fixed himself a hearty plate of sausage, bacon, eggs and toast. He accepted some fresh fruit, but declined – politely and emphatically – the porridge.

"So," the baron ate neatly, his movements economical and precise. "Have you had a chance to review the pedigrees to your satisfaction?"

"I have sir, and I thank you. I believe I have a tentative list of animals that will almost certainly _not_ be suitable for inclusion in the levy." Kyminn ate with equal care. He very much doubted he'd ever take good food for granted.

"And have you verified the information?" The baron didn't look up.

A bare pause, as Kyminn swallowed. "I have, milord. I found the records to be accurate in all respects." He paused, then, delicately, "If I may, milord, was it so obvious?"

The baron's smile was ironic. "Not obvious, no. But Sendar is nobody's fool. This levy is going to fit in some craws like a goat going down sideways. The Barony of Dunn has always been - and always will be - loyal servants of the crown and Circle. But, I'm not so stupid as to think some others won't do their best to obfuscate, shade, wriggle, lie, and otherwise try to avoid their obligations. It's obvious – to anyone with a brain, at least – that Sendar wouldn't send someone who didn't have some way of verifying the records. I also imagine," Kellix's gaze was shrewd, "That you have a fairly big stick to wield, too."

Kyminn nodded slowly. "I do. I have recourse to Herald's Judgement, as well as a Royal Warrant." He paused. "I very much hope that I have to use neither."

A grunt and the baron stabbed a sausage with unnecessary force. "Unfortunately, Healer, you probably will. I can think of one or two who would be likely to drag their feet all the way to the royal balk line if they thought they could get away with it."

Kyminn mentally ran through his extensive litany of army-derived curses. "Milord, if there are any insights you could offer with respect to local bloodlines (Kyminn carefully didn't say which species) or personalities, I'd welcome the tutelage."

"I'd be glad to. Now, let's see that exclusion list of yours…."

They were engrossed in the list and the Records when Lady Neydra entered the room. Kyminn rose automatically, but seated himself again at her gesture. Somewhat to Kyminn's surprise, the lady was dressed in loose trousers, cut to resemble a divided skirt. Both the trousers and her top were of rugged fabric, designed for hard work.

"Neydra manages most of our livestock," the baron explained. "Horses, cattle and sheep. We don't keep bloodlines for goats, but we do make sure new stock comes in to prevent inbreeding."

"I see." Kyminn tried, and failed, to hide his surprise. Accustomed as he was to educated, capable women, he was still surprised to see such in the noble class.

The baron's smile was wintery. "Necessity, Healer. That and prudence. I was the third born and never, ever, thought I'd hold the title. As such, my training in management of the holding was scant. Like many spare sons, I saw my future in the guard. Losing both of my brothers within a half year…well, that put paid to that notion. Those first few seasons were hard on both me and the tenants. I thank the gods every day that my father trained good stewards to see us through.

"I married Nida within the first year of taking the holding. It was hasty, and necessary, but we've made it work. When the first two children were girls, I realized that I might not have a clear, strong heir. That would leave Lecia and her husband to manage things. I decided two things right then. First, that I would teach her everything one needed to know about the holding. That way, if her husband turned out to be incapable or worse, died young, the holding would have an able hand at the helm. Secondly, that I would try to find her a match that was not only capable, but accepted that _she_ was capable." The baron shook his head.

"Frankly, Healer, I couldn't afford to raise daughters whose only skills were in selecting husbands or clothes. And if I was training one…well…better to train them all. I certainly would have benefitted from such a notion."

"I see," Kyminn said again, and this time he did. Part of him realized just how extraordinary Lord Kellix was. No wonder the man seldom went to Haven. He must surely find the posturing and gilding maddening!

"If I may, milord," Kyminn asked, "Did you succeed in your second goal? Clearly, you succeeded in the first." He smiled at Neydra.

"Heh. I think so. When Lecia was about sixteen, I wrote to my fellow officers in the army. Most of them were married by then, with sons that were 'sons of second or third sons', so young men with the bloodlines, but no hope at a title. Not many choices for an intelligent and able youngster. I offered to foster some, teach them about estate management. That would make them eligible for work as stewards or similar."

"Of course," Neydra broke in with an impish smile, "His friends all saw right through him. They knew he was bringing in prospective husbands for us. The winner of course, would get Lecia and the title. I don't think a single of them turned him down!"

"Imagine, Healer Danner, if you will, seven or eight well-born young men, all eager to prove themselves and desirous of marrying to advantage. I don't think I've ever seen so many young pups falling over their feet before!" The baron grinned.

"I take it things worked out, then?" Kyminn tried to picture the chaos.

"It did indeed. All of the suitors were intelligent, educated and of suitable breeding. Most were quite capable and willing to learn."

"Except that one, Father, remember him? The poncy, dancing master fellow. What was his name? Lord Ladverial was it?"

"Landriel, yes. That one." The baron's face darkened briefly. "He didn't stay long. Nor will he set foot on these grounds again. While I've no objection to servants making romantic matches amongst themselves, or even setting their caps a bit above their class, I DO object to anyone who uses his status to importune those who are bound to obedience."

"Fortunately," Neydra was cold, "It never got too far. Our servants trust us to be just in our dealings and the maid in question came straight to Father's steward when it happened. He denied it, of course, but others came forward as witness. Father dismissed him immediately."

"AND wrote my fellows with a dis-recommendation for the fellow. I'll not have that sort of nastiness in my house. I will not!" The baron glared, then subsided.

"Anyway," Neydra took up the tale, "Berl proved to be a very good match for Lecia. They are both bookish and enjoy mathematical puzzles. I'd say he learned the holding quite quickly, wouldn't you Father?"

"He did well, that's quite true. I'm confident that the barony will be in good hands when the time comes. I still think he wants to invest too much in flax, but well, one can't have everything." This last with a smile.

"Of course, Ellin and I were too young to be considered, although one or two did approach Father about future matches. Fortunately, there was no rush and Father was willing to wait. It seems to have worked, Ellin is betrothed to a fine young fellow and we will be holding the wedding feast at Midwinter. Will you be here for it, Healer Danner?"

"I'm afraid not, milady. My schedule calls for me to spend about a fortnight at each holding before I move on. I've eight estates to visit and with winter travel, I expect to need all of it if I'm to get it done before the spring campaign. My congratulations though, to Lady Ellin. I hope she and her husband will be happy together." A little corner of Kyminn's mind wondered if Neydra had just indicated that she considered _him_ a suitable match.

"You may yet get to meet him," the baron offered. "He's expected back here soon. They'll winter here but are considering returning to Haven come spring. Well," he slapped the table with his hands. "If everyone's finished, shall we get started?"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 _A/N Chicken or egg? In case you were wondering, sometimes questions and comments from readers appear with perfect timing, just before I was about to develop an idea or plot point (like why Kyminn brought warhorses). At other times, those questions inspire the plot point (like who Jareth ended up Choosing.) For the record, I do have the rest of Kyminn's story mapped out. This winter season was only supposed to last a chapter – two, tops! Independent soul that Kyminn is, he's not following the plan…_

The baron had indeed gathered any and all suitable horses for Kyminn's inspection. One large pen held mares, another the geldings. The stallions, of course, were housed in secure stalls, well away from each other. Kyminn was determined to consider the stallions only as a last resort. Not only were they most likely to be the most valuable and necessary animals, a stallion's temperament was seldom welcome on the picket lines.

Kyminn's first stop was the pen of mares. Many mares had steady, even personalities and made good cavalry animals. It was critical though, that none of them be carrying a foal. At Kyminn's request, a small gate was opened between the mare's pen and an empty adjacent one. A short chute was hastily constructed of green timber and the horses herded through. As each mare passed the chute, Kyminn laid a hand on her shoulder. "In foal." "Open." "Open." The line moved quickly. "In foal." Kyminn reached for the next mare in line, but a groom stopped him.

"Begging your pardon Healer, but that mare shouldn't be in foal. She's one of milord's hunter mares and she's not being bred this year."

Kyminn obligingly returned to the mare in question and ran his hands across her abdomen. The expression he gave the groom was ironic. "Well, somebody better tell her that. She should drop her foal sometime around late summer." He closed his eyes and extended his senses. "I can't tell you any more than that, but I suspect the sire may have an appaloosa colouring."

The baron – along with all the grooms and servants present – were gaping at Kyminn in surprise. He gave a deprecatory shrug. "One of my gifts is Animal Mindspeech. Horses tend to have short memories for most things, but this was recent and fairly significant. I have a feeling that one of your young geldings is not quite as gelded as you think." Kyminn looked around at the gathered horses. "I expect the guilty party isn't here. You didn't bring in any beasts less than two years old, correct?"

The baron nodded ruefully. "If we bring you the gelded yearlings, I don't suppose you could…" he said hopefully.

Kyminn laughed. "I'd be happy to. If nothing else, it will help keep your Record book straight, and I wouldn't want to interfere with that!"

All in all, it took only two days for Kyminn to select the horses for the levy. As he had told the baron, the crown didn't want the best-bred animals, the army needed the most suitable beasts for the task at hand. Having all the animals readily available sped the chore immensely.

In addition to selecting the animals for the levy (three light dray horses, two heavy dray, eight medium cavalry mounts and one scout mount), Kyminn had identified the culprit non-quite-a-gelding and ensured that this time, he was really and truly a gelding.

"Well, Kyminn," the baron had unbent enough to address the Healer by his first name. "Now what? Will you be moving on to your next holding?"

Kyminn, settled into that comfortable armchair in the baron's library, shook his head. "I'm afraid I have to impose on your hospitality for a little while longer milord. My schedule is timed with that of the Herald on circuit, in the event he or she is needed. In addition, I can't assume that the Guard stations will be ready to receive the horses yet. With your permission, I'd like to get started training the horses intended for cavalry work. That's one reason I brought my own warhorses. Max and Vik have both helped me train other horses. With them in the formation, they demonstrate what's expected."

The baron nodded. "I served in the cavalry myself when I was in the Guard. Would it help to have another cavalry trained rider?"

"It would very much, milord, but I know you have a lot of demands on your time. I can make do with anyone with a half decent seat."

The baron's voice was a rumble. "It'd be nice to get back in the saddle again. I think I can squeeze out a candlemark here and there to help the king."

Kyminn smiled gratefully. "Anything you can spare would be welcome milord. If you could see your way to assigning say…three other riders? I think I can manage with that."

"I'll see it's done." The decisive nod was starting to become familiar.

"Milord, training isn't going to take all of my time. I'd be more than happy to see any of your tenants or beasts who might need my services as a Healer." Kyminn offered.

"That would be appreciated, young Kyminn. The barony does keep a Healer, but she's housed in the village. The estate provides her housing and a stipend, but she's situated there because it gives more people access to her services. If anyone here at the manor has need of her, we either send a carriage or bring the patient to her. I expect though, if you put the word out, there's a few minor ailments rattling around this place that would welcome the attentions of a Healer."

 _SCENE BREAK_

The next several days were busy ones, but also some of the most deeply satisfying that Kyminn had experienced. In addition to treating all the ailments of the household, he spent a day making a circuit of the outlying steadings, checking on the health of the inhabitants. Lord Kellix joined him on these rounds and Kyminn was unsurprised to find that the baron not only knew all of his tenants on sight; but also, had a detailed knowledge of each farm. The majority of the inhabitants were healthy, although there was one oldster that Kyminn referred to the other Healer for further examination. Although he said nothing to the patient, Kyminn did quietly advise the baron that he suspected the oldster had a mass on his lung. He hoped he was wrong, but he doubted it.

Working with the horses was an unmitigated pleasure. The weather cooperated with clear, mild days and between that and the willing help of the grooms, training proceeded at an impressive rate. As promised, the baron set aside three candlemarks per day to help with the training, usually taking one of Kyminn's own animals to anchor the formation. To Kyminn's pleasure, both Ellin and Neydra spent time helping with the training. Both proved to be very capable horsewomen and, to judge by the way each rode, had never heard of a sidesaddle.

"Halloooo!" The bellow rang clear across the courtyard, breaking into Kyminn's discussion with Ellin on the finer points of a left pivot.

"Arvyill!" Ellin's face lit up with delight. In spite of her obvious urgency, she still dismounted with care and made sure the groom had a sure grip on her horse's reins before she eeled through the fence and pelted across the yard.

Kyminn watched in bemusement as a figure tumbled down off his own horse and swept her up in his arms. "Is that…?" His eyebrows rose as he made out the splash of scarlet underneath the cloak.

"Bard Arvyill, milord? Aye," the groom confirmed. "That's milady's betrothed. The nuptials are planned for Midwinter." The man's pleased smile left no doubt that he was delighted by milady's happiness.

"A bard. Huh. Didn't see that one coming." Kyminn shook his head and sighed. "Well, I suspect that's done for Lady Ellin for the day." He glanced at the sky. "It's late enough. We may as well call an end to it. Do you and your fellows need any help getting these horses seen to?"

The groom shook his head. "Thank you, milord, but no. They're always in fine shape when you're done with them. It won't take us long to groom them and settle 'em. I 'spect you'll be wanted for the family dinner this evening. Best let you go clean up sir, before you end up looking like one of us lower class sorts." This last was with a cheeky grin. Kyminn was in the unique position of being respected for his role – and hence acceptable to the upper class, and yet low-born – thus acceptable to the servant class. He'd asked, and the servant Cam had admitted, that normally his elevated access would have put him in the 'jumped-up' category of those who had risen above their station. Cam had gone on to advise him though that Healers were 'different', being as how they were privy to personal matters. Kyminn didn't fully understand all the nuances, but he appreciated the fact that most people considered him approachable.

Kym merely shook his head and laughed. It had been a very long time, he reflected, since he had smiled so much.

Dinner was still the most formal meal of the day, but far from that which some other houses considered 'formal'. Kyminn took extra care with his appearance, ruing yet again his lack of formal greens. He'd racked his brain on the matter, but had not yet come up with a means short of Heraldic intervention of obtaining the required wardrobe.

"You must be Healer Kyminn," the bard extended his hand, his expression open and smiling.

Kyminn clasped it firmly. "And you must be Bard Arvyill. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'd heard a little bit about Lady Ellin's intended, but everyone forgot the mention that you were a Bard!"

Lady Ellin's arm was wrapped affectionately around the Bard's. With a sideways glance up at her much taller fiancé, she simply said "I suppose that it's just that Arvyill fits into our family so well that we've come to think of him as Arvyill first and Bard second."

Personally, Kyminn had his own doubts about any Bard meekly accepting coming second to anything. Or anyone. He simply said, "Let me offer my congratulations to you both in person then. I hope the future holds only happiness for you both."

Arvyill caught Kyminn's eye for the barest second and his tone was smooth. "Thank you from both of us Healer. I'm given to understand you'll have moved on before the happy day?"

Was that hint of challenge under the words or was Kyminn imagining it? A bit baffled at how the ice underfoot had grown so thin so quickly, he gave a polite half-bow. "I'm afraid so. My duty requires me to leave within a few days, actually. I'll depart as soon as the Herald arrives for circuit."

There. Put that in your lute and smoke it. There's a Herald coming and I'm not concerned. How are you sleeping, bardy boy? Kyminn didn't allow any of his feelings to reach his face, and he wondered what it was about this man that raised his hackles so.

"So I am given to understand." If Arvyill was worried, he gave no sign. "I believe that dinner has been called. After you, my dear," and he swept Ellin into the dining room with a courtly bow.

Kyminn spent the few paces into the dining room wrestling with his temper. With a few, perfectly polite sentences, the Bard had him seething. It was though the fellow had a gift for causing trouble.

So startled that he actually missed his next step, Kyminn had to flail to recover from the resulting stumble. Gift! The Bardic _Gift!_ Ellin was of noble birth and Bard Arvyill was - almost certainly - not. While no title would confer through the marriage, their children would be considered a cadet branch of Dunn, granting them the automatic title of "Sir" or "Lady." Titled offspring plus a Bard's Scarlet? Oh my yes, there was plenty there for an impoverished songster to aspire to. Certainly he wouldn't have to worry about traveling about and singing for his supper!

The dinner conversation flowed from topic to topic as always, but an astute observer would have noted the various hidden eddies and unseen currents. Kyminn's discussions with the Baroness, usually on matters economic and handcraft related, went smoothly. Similarly his conversations with baron on matters of farming and horses. Only when a side issue of defense was raised (Kyminn had asked about the structure of the outer stoneworks) did the first shoals appear.

Arvyill slid into the conversation and Kyminn was startled at how deftly the Bard turned the topic away from matters military and back to more prosaic matters. Instead of gaining an appreciation as to how the keep had evolved, Kyminn found himself listening to the baron expound on where the best local stone was found, how it was quarried and the problems involved in its transportation. Arvyill gave every indication of finding the subject fascinating and seemed determined to wring every last detail out of the baron.

Giving that up as a lost cause, Kyminn instead turned to Lady Neydra and asked her an innocuous question about how many lambs they hoped to see in the spring. No sooner had he asked the question when Arvyill tacked on a question as to whether she had decided to cross-breed a particular flock in the hopes of producing a superior wool.

Curious now, Kyminn sat back and tested the waters. A conversational pattern quickly developed. Apparently, he was permitted to speak to both the Baroness and Lady Lecia on any subject, and the Baron himself on most subjects save for those of economics and defense. He was, however, permitted to speak to Ellin on all topics, but only for brief periods. As for Neydra, he found himself blocked at nearly every turn. It would have been funny if not for the fact that it was blindingly obvious that the Bard was aggressively pursuing his own agenda. Whatever it was, it clearly didn't involve upstart Healers.

By the time the sweet course was served, Kyminn was silently fuming and very, very worried. He was sickly certain that Arvyill had – or was – using the Bardic Gift to sway Ellin's feelings. Suddenly, Kyminn was grateful they had established the precedent on that very first night of the dogs staying in his room. He doubted very much a Bard would stoop to a personal attack in his bedroom, but knowing his room to be well guarded was reassuring nonetheless.

"Milord Baron," Arvyill's voice held just the right note of apology. "If I may excuse myself for a short while, I'd like to check on my horse. I know your grooms have always given her excellent care, but the plain fact is that she's getting a bit long in the tooth and this last trip has been hard on her. I'd just like to check her myself if that's acceptable to you."

"Of course, Lad. We all know how you dote on that little mare of yours. Quite right you'd want to check her yourself. Not offended, not offended at all. Ellin? Will you be going with him?" The baron smiled at his daughter, tacitly giving Ellin and her beau some private time.

"Ellin dearest, it's quite cold tonight. You needn't come with me. I don't intend to be out there very long. Just enough to give Belle a quick check and then I'll be right back. Promise!" He covered her hand and gave it a quick squeeze of reassurance, then glanced over at Kyminn. "I was hoping though, that I could impose upon Healer Kyminn to come with me. I understand you have quite a significant Gift of Healing when it comes to horses. I'd be most grateful if you could assure me she's taken no harm from this last trip?" The tone was perfectly correct. It was the eyes that threatened drawn blades.

"I'd be happy to. Baron, Lady Nida, Ladies, if you'll excuse us?" At their nods, he and Arvyill rose from the table. If anyone noticed that each man paused to allow the other in front of him, rather at his back, no one said anything.

 _SCENE BREAK_

The dimly lit stable was a welcome relief from the crisp winter dark, and Kyminn was glad of the warmth. He was braced too, for the blow; although it came to his knees, not his back as he'd anticipated. Still, he'd spent nearly two years learning how to defend himself, so when the Bard's sweep took his legs out from under him, Kyminn turned the fall into a roll, taking himself to the side and springing to his feet.

The Bard circled low, arms outspread in a grappler's stance. Kyminn was relieved to see the man hadn't drawn his knife, so Kyminn left his own in its sheath. Whatever it was the Bard wanted, Kyminn wasn't going to let himself be accused of being the first to draw a blade.

As the two men circled and feinted, Kyminn started to get a sense of the other man's style. Clearly, the Bard had some basic training in self-defense. Equally clear was that the Bard was reluctant to close in and commit to an attack. Not sure if this meant the Bard was waiting for something, in over his head or hesitating for some other reason, Kyminn decided to test him. The Healer dove in and grasped the Bard's arm and collar in a classic hip-throw hold. The hold in question had a number of conventional counters and to Arvyill's credit, the Bard attempted one of the classic responses. Unfortunately for the Bard, Kyminn had a great deal more practice and the Bard slammed into the stable floor with a resounding thud.

Kyminn sprang back, letting the Bard regain his wind and crawl back to his feet. The Bard gained his footing rather more quickly than Kyminn had anticipated and Kyminn once again wondered if the Bard was hiding his strength and simply playing a longer game.

"What do you want, Kyminn?" Arvyill's voice was angry.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Clipped. Short. Conserve one's breath. Don't be distracted by your opponent's words.

"I'm going to marry Ellin. Don't interfere." It was a clear warning.

A change in the tone on the last word gave Kyminn all the hint he needed. When the Bard lunged, Kyminn was braced for it and the two men went down in a tangle of limbs.

The next few moments were a silent chaos of punches, grapples and body blows. Fortunately, both men were so well covered in winter layers that the blows had minimal effect. Finally, they broke apart and rolled away, breathing deeply.

Kyminn climbed to his feet, watching the Bard do the same. "I'm not sure why you hate me Arvyill. I assure you, I've done nothing to deserve your enmity."

"I don't hate you Kyminn. But I _will_ protect this family." This was a growl.

A bark of cynical laughter. "You're protecting this family? From what? Me? I'm just a travelling Healer and I assure you, Bard, I've got much more important things to worry about that one sneaky little Bard."

"Sneaky little Bard? You take that back you…" Bards have a way with words, and when a Bard chooses to insult one's breeding and parentage, the result is admittedly fairly impressive. "…Tedrel washer woman!" The Bard finally wound down, glaring.

"I'm not the one taking advantage of this family Arvyill. I know I've only been here a bare fortnight and I'm leaving again soon, but these are _good_ people. The kingdom would be blessed beyond measure to have more landholders like Lord Kellix, or capable managers like Lady Nida. I will not let you worm your way in and sponge off them. I refuse. I didn't fight the Tedrel's directly, but I'm more than happy to fight your kind of home-grown rot." Kyminn's words were hot, savage.

"Rot? Advantage? I'm not the one using my Gift to seduce an innocent girl!" the Bard's voice was a hiss.

"Gift? Girl? What are you talking about?" The accusation was so preposterous that Kyminn's anger was briefly knocked aside.

"I've seen the way Neydra looks at you Healer. She's the second born and I imagine it's not easy for her that she's the last to wed. And then you show up – a Gifted young man, sent by the king himself. You may not have the birth, but you've clearly got the connections. You probably found her an easy mark."

Kyminn was openly gaping now, his anger forgotten. "Is _THAT_ what you think is going on? I've got my eye set on Neydra?" He was nearly spluttering his denials. "No. No! NO!" The Bard was starting to get that dangerous look in his eye again, so Kyminn hastened to explain. "Lady Neydra is a fine young lady. Smart, capable, well-read and quite pretty. But I assure you, I've no interest in her whatsoever. I'm here only for a few more days and after that, I very much doubt I'll ever be back here again. Arvyill, I work for the Guard. My future is far too uncertain to even consider any kind of…romantic attachment. Not even a temporary one – not that I'd even consider that either! Especially with someone like Lady Neydra!"

"So why did you do your best to push me off Ellin then, if not to keep her from objecting to your suit with Neydra?" The tone was hostile, but much of the anger had bled off.

Kyminn thought back? Had he, in fact, tried to push Arvyill off Ellin? At this point, he honestly couldn't remember. He just remembered that something about the Bard had set his hackles up. "I wasn't. Or, I don't recall I was. I didn't like you though; and I'm pretty sure I still don't. To be honest, I'm not sure you haven't used your Gift to influence her feelings."

The Bard gave an angry growl. "And how am I supposed to prove that I _didn't_ do something? I could swear it to you, but you wouldn't believe me. People always assume that Bards have used our Gift to influence people to our own advantage. Then they get suspicious when we can't prove otherwise. It's like people making the hex sign to Mindspeakers. They assume all their secrets are about to be announced in the town square. Bards have ethics too, you know. Bardic influence is easy to figure out – just wait and see if you feel the same way when the Bard's been gone for a while. It's not a permanent thing, you know."

"Hm." Kyminn's answer was non-committal while he digested this. He shook out his clenched fists and dabbed at his bloody nose absently.

"Kyminn, I've been courting Ellin for a year and a half. In that time, I've spent only a total of about six moons here at Seven Springs. The rest of the time, I'm out on tour. If I was using my Gift to influence her feelings, they would have faded after that first season. Instead, our feelings for each other have grown. When I'm here, I spend a lot of my time with the baron, learning about the steading and the businesses. There's a small inn in the village and the owner plans to sell in the next year or two. We've talked with Lord Kellix and he's willing to invest in it with us. Ellin's got a good head for such things and we'd hire a manager for at least the first little while. Neither Ellin nor I can cook and Ellin's no maid, but we've done the math and we think we can afford to hire it done, especially once word gets out that I'm performing. I'm no Bard Lena Tyrell, but I _am_ a full Bard. That should generate some good custom."

"I see." Kyminn shook his head in confusion. "So why did you assume that _I_ had such dire designs on Lady Neydra then?"

"You're a Healer," the bard said, as though that explained everything.

"Huh?" Kyminn didn't even try to make the question sound intelligent.

"You know, Healers. And women. Or men." Was the bard actually blushing? It was hard to tell in the dark shadows of the stable.

"What?" It was somewhat more coherent a sound, but no less confused.

A cough. "Everybody knows that Healers know…things…about the body. And that they can use their Healing gift to…amplify…physical sensations…" Yes, the bard was definitely blushing now.

"What? You think I'd? Ew! No!" Kyminn frantically waved his hands as though fending off the entire concept. "I've never heard that before! And frankly, it sounds like a squicky abuse of the Healing gift at best. At worst…ew! Besides, I don't have that kind of Healing gift. I only have Animal Healing, so even if I were so inclined…no. Just…nooo..."

"Oh. But all the Trainees said…" the Bard trailed off.

"They probably say lots of things. Like a Bard can talk a girl out of her dress in a quarter candlemark. I'm sure some can, but I'm equally sure it's not precisely a Bardic Gift." It was sardonic.

Arvyill gently felt his swelling eye. "So, you're not after Neydra? And you really are leaving soon?"

"I'm not and I am. And you're not abusing your Gift and your feelings towards Ellin are sincere?" The bloody nose had stopped, finally.

"I'm not and they are. So. Truce?" The bard didn't offer his hand.

"Truce. But I still don't like you." Neither did Kyminn.

"Don't worry, I feel exactly the same way."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 _A/N My thanks to the sharp-eyed reader Pegeen for picking up my mistake on Bard Lena's name. I've since made the edit. Although I try very hard to keep things strictly within canon (and extrapolate with great care) I do miss things. Thanks so much to you all for keeping this tale honest!_

 _For those that wonder, yes, Kyminn was going to get some dogs from Lord Kellix. However, our headstrong protagonist tangled with a bard and I - quite honestly - forgot to include that plot point. Happily, I think that I've got it figured out. In fact, I think I can tackle two loose ends with one dog._

 _BTW - Lord Kellix is available if anyone wants to do anything with him. He's almost too interesting a fellow to molder on the sidelines. I just don't think he's going to appear in Kyminn's life again. (Although Lady Lecia's husband may make a later appearance.)_

Someone's cup clattered onto its saucer in the sudden silence of the dining room. Kyminn and Arvyill both offered the baron polite bows of greeting and allowed themselves to be seated for breakfast.

"Arvyill! What on earth happened!" Ellin's fingers fluttered over his swollen eye, not daring to touch the lurid bruise.

Before Arvyill could speak, Kyminn broke in, his tone a rueful mixture of manly chagrin and embarrassment. "Milady, it was quite dark outside last night. I'm afraid both Arvyill and I ended up taking a tumble."

The baron's eyes flicked from the Bard's glorious shiner to Kyminn's own bruised cheek and split lip. The Healer prudently kept his hands – and their incriminating skinned knuckles – in his lap. The baron cleared his throat several times, blotting his lips with his napkin as he did so. It took the senior gentlemen some moments to regain his ability to speak.

"I see." Clearly, he hadn't bought it for a second, but was willing to accept the pretense – for now. "No serious injuries, I hope?"

Ellin reached down to examine Arvyill's hands, although she didn't display them on the table. "Dearest! Did you injure your hands?"

Kyminn felt a sudden frisson of guilt. He had completely forgotten how serious a matter it was for a Bard to risk injury to their hands. He'd been so angry, he hadn't even considered the matter.

Fortunately, Arvyill was smiling reassuringly. "No, all's well on that score dear one. Happily enough, it seems I landed on top of Kyminn here and my hands encountered only his soft parka."

"And the cheek, then?" the baron raised an eyebrow in sardonic query.

"Ah…it may have been a stray elbow, milord. I'm not certain. As Kyminn said, it was quite dark out." It was the Bard's turn to cover his lips with a napkin.

Kyminn shot the Bard a brief glare at Arvyill's suggestion that the Bard had sent the Healer to the floor. Instead of rising to the bait, he gave another chagrined shrug. "It was all the briefest of events, milord. I doubt either of us recalls the order of things. I offer my regret for my flailing hand which struck the Bard that glancing blow to his eye. I wish I had been more coordinated."

It was Arvyill's turn to grind his teeth but be forced himself to bite his tongue. No doubt Kyminn would have loved to have been able to land more blows to the Bard's face.

The Baron cleared his voice in what was clearly an order to drop the subject. "I'm delighted to hear this was such a brief, singular incident. I imagine you will both be much more careful the next time you take a walk in the darkness." _That_ , without doubt, was a baronial order.

"Yes, milord." It was perhaps the only time the Bard and the Healer had ever agreed on anything.

"So then, Kyminn, what are your plans then?" The baron shifted topics as though the previous conversation had never occurred.

"Milord, my orders require me to depart no later than the third morning from now. My travel time has been adjusted for both the season and the fact that I'll have a string of horses with me. While I would prefer to wait until the Herald arrives – simply so that I can make a complete report, I cannot wait for that. If he or she has not arrived by the time I have to leave, I can only hope we will overtake each other on the road."

"Understood. So, more training today then?" the baron took a deep gulp of his tea.

"I don't think so, milord. At least, not anything new. I don't believe there's sufficient time to begin the next round of skills. I'd rather the horses be very strong in their current drills than half-trained and perhaps confused later. With your permission, I'd like to have the grooms and other riders simply drill the horses on what they've learned so far. I can provide a list of the drills, but I don't think I'm necessarily required to be there."

"Father, I can lead the drills," Ellin interjected. "I've been working with Kyminn from the beginning and I think I can do it."

The baron blinked in surprise and seemed a bit taken aback at the suggestion. Kyminn threw his support behind the idea.

"Milord, Lady Ellin is quite capable of managing the drills I'm considering. Not only is she a very able rider, she has been raised to offer clear and concise instruction to others. Furthermore, the grooms in question are used to listening her, so it will be a natural evolution. Finally, may I remind milord that a good number of the most esteemed cavalry officers are, in fact women. Myself, I was trained in cavalry drills by both a female Herald and Captain Nikki Ashkevron. I assure you milord; both those redoubtable ladies are superlative field commanders!"

His reflexive objections so logically diverted, there was no option for hesitation in the baron's nod of acquiescence. "Very well. If not training, then what?"

"Well, milord baron, I was thinking perhaps that demonstration with the mastiffs that we discussed earlier. Are you still interested?" Kyminn dug into his breakfast. He was definitely going to miss Lord Kellix's cook!

"Indeed, son. Yes indeed. I'd like to have as many of my men present as possible for that. I'll have the captain gather everyone just after the noon meal. That will catch those coming off of shift as well as those about to go on."

"I'll make sure we're ready for that time then. Finally, milord, I should sit down with either yourself or your steward and make sure the transfer documents are prepared. We will require a number of clean copies – for yourself, for submission with your taxes, a record for the guard and another to go to Haven with the Herald. I can make the required copies, but I should meet with your steward to make sure all the figures and particulars are correct."

The baron looked over the various lists and documents that characterized his customary 'working breakfast'. "Get together with Fergis immediately after breakfast then. You and he can prepare the drafts for my review and I'll look them over this afternoon. Sometime around the fourth hour, I'll go over them with you both. Once they are correct, you can make your copies. I'll make time for you tomorrow morning and we will sign and seal them."

"Very good, milord." Kyminn nodded. He'd once had merely passable penmanship, but months under Delassia's exacting standards of patient records had improved his hand tremendously.

"Kyminn," Arvyill had waited until the baron's business with the healer was clearly concluded. "I'd like to observe the drills, if you have no objection?" There was an odd tension in the question, one that Kyminn found somewhat baffling.

Kyminn considered the request, determined that it held no hidden traps, and nodded. "I have no objection. Are you familiar with cavalry drills at all?"

"I am not." A short headshake. "Bards are encouraged to learn the fundamentals of self-defense, but we tend to avoid weapons work. I'm afraid our primary weapon is our words, not a sword."

Kyminn tilted his head. Something – aside from the mere fact of Kyminn's existence, that is – was troubling the Bard. "Understandable. Even a poor blow in training could be devastating to one who depends on agile hands for his livelihood. Still, with all the martial airs out there, I thought that Bards had at least a passing knowledge of military affairs."

Clenched muscles in the bard's jaw jumped, but he said only, "While we do study notable military actions, we seldom find ourselves with an opportunity for direct observation."

Kyminn left off twitting the bard. Whatever was bothering the man, it would be graceless to goad the man further.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Immediately following breakfast, Kyminn tracked down the steward and made arrangements to sit down with the man about a candlemark hence. That would give Kyminn time to organize the drills as well as letting the steward retrieve the necessary records.

That done, he headed back out the stable. Feeling guilty, he spent some time giving the Bard's little mare a thorough going-over. In last night's tussle, the actual – and legitimate – need to check on the horse had been overlooked. He was embarrassed to have let his temper interfere with a very real duty.

As the bard had said, the little palfrey was not a young animal. Kyminn estimated her age to be somewhere around 19 years. Horses, like people, each responded differently to ageing. Judging from the wear he detected on her joints, Kyminn got the impression she'd spent a fair amount of time on the road. Still, she was still a sound animal with a sweet disposition. It was easy to see why the bard was so fond of her.

"Well?" For once, there was only concern, with no hint of hostility, in the bard's voice.

Kyminn's smile was genuine. "She's doing well, all things considered. She could do with some rest, but I gather you knew that. She'll certainly benefit from a winter of stable rest." He hesitated a moment, gently stroking the little mare's neck. "I can't tell you what to do, Bard Arvyill, but my professional recommendation, as an animal healer, is that she be retired from the road. She's still more than fit for short trips of no more than a few days, and I expect she'll make a wonderful teaching horse for a young rider. Treat her well and yours and Lady Ellin's children will enjoy her for some years yet."

The bard rubbed the mare's soft muzzle as she wuffed happily. "I'd wondered. Tell me, what's the worst case? What if I have to take her back on the road?"

A sigh. "She could make a few more trips, but they'd be very hard on her. Her major joints are a bit deteriorated and hard work would only accelerate the process. If she retires now, she is likely to live another eight or nine years at least. If she returns to the road, two or three, and those spent in increasing discomfort."

"I see. Thank you, Healer Kyminn." He looked over at the other man. "While we may not like one another, I don't believe you would abuse your professional ethics. I believe you, at least in this regard."

Kyminn bit back a sharp retort as his nostrils flared. He'd promised the baron the tussling with Arvyill was over and, by the gods, he'd hold his word. Instead, he simply gave a polite smile and gestured towards the door of the stable. "Now that your lady Belle has been seen to, I'm going to arrange the drills. Will you be coming?"

The bard's grunt might have been one of agreement. Or, it might have been an insult. Kyminn declined to ask.

In the chill winter training paddock, Ellin waited with a group of five grooms. Ellin would be riding Kyminn's grey warhorse Max. The experienced animal always executed the drills with alacrity and wasn't past giving an out-of-position fellow a nip or sharp nudge. The grooms each held a trainee animal. Kyminn was pleased to note that, even dismounted, the line-up was properly spaced and dressed.

"Good morning again, Lady Ellin." Kyminn waved a scrap of paper in her general direction. "These are the drill cycles I'd ask you to focus on this morning. I've also given a copy to the bugler. I'd ask you to work on transitions today if you would."

"Certainly, Kyminn." Ellin reviewed the list of drills and tucked it into her pocket. "Will the bugler be calling the transitions?"

"I thought we'd give it a try. That way, you're as unprepared as everyone else. I've also asked the bugler to vary the order."

"Excellent. I was thinking that it wouldn't be a good habit to do things in the same order every time." Ellin led Max back to their position on the horse line and gave the bugler a nod. The notes of "Mount" sounded out a moment later and the riders leapt into their saddles. Kyminn was quite pleased at how smoothly it went, given that no one present had any cavalry training whatsoever.

Kyminn and Arvyill watched as the horses and riders responded to various calls. Kyminn carefully kept his shields up. At this point, the horses should be well enough trained to respond to their riders and the bugle, not to his prompting. "Are you ready?", "Forward – follow me", "By the left" "Columns". The horses wheeled and spun in more or less unison. In many cases, the horses responded more promptly than did their riders, and Kyminn grinned to see the grooms' looks of grim determination to not be outdone by one's own horse.

"That's my wife-to-be up there, that you're trying to turn into a cavalry trooper." Arvyill's voice was bitter.

Ah! Kyminn believed he finally understood the reason behind the bard's most recent burst of anger. The man was profoundly worried for his fiancée's safety.

Kyminn felt an unexpected wash of sympathy for the man and took a moment to choose his words carefully. "Arvyill," Kyminn pulled up his trouser leg, revealing the still-red scar where a chunk was missing from Kyminn's calf. "This war is making unexpected demands on all of us. As Healers, we stay well back from the battle. That didn't prevent this, or the Tedrels nearly killing one of my fellows. If I had my way, some god would smite them from the face of the earth. Instead, we're going back to war next spring. I'm not suggesting Lady Ellin fight – although if she chose to do so, I believe she'd do rather well at it. What I am doing – with the Baron's full consent – using her abilities to advance the war effort. Frankly, Arvyill, if you were half the rider she is, I'd ask you to join her. I can't compel, but I'd ask. I'd shamelessly beg, bribe, or otherwise play on your patriotic sympathies if that's what it took."

Kyminn turned away from the training field and eyed the bard squarely. "Last night, you were willing to fight me, and risk your future livelihood, because you thought I was a danger to this family. Tell me something – if you had to, would you take up arms to protect Ellin and the rest of them?"

Arvyill's nod was stiff. Clearly, he disliked the notion of agreeing with any idea of Kyminn's.

Kyminn felt unaccountably weary. He had no time to battle stiff-necked bards, or anyone else. "Then I ask you to accept that this is all that I'm doing. I'm doing my best to defend her – any everyone else around us."

A stiff, formal bow was the only assent he got. It was enough.

Over the bard's shoulder, Kyminn saw the baron. Judging from the man's expression, he'd heard at least part of the exchange. This was confirmed when a jerk of the Lord's chin indicated that Kyminn should attend the baron.

Kyminn tilted his head slightly, towards the bard, a question in the gesture. At the baron's small headshake, Kyminn simply pushed past Arvyill and trudged after the baron. He was tired to death of locking horns with the bard.

They reconvened in the baron's study. Kyminn wondered if he had damaged his relationship with the cordial noble beyond all repair.

"Sit." It was an order.

Kyminn sat. He did not lean, slouch or otherwise settle. He just…sat.

In the resulting silence, Kyminn tried not to shift like an errant child. He thought he managed creditably, but the baron's expression offered no clue.

Finally, "You don't like Arvyill." It wasn't a question.

Something told Kyminn that lying to the baron would be a very stupid idea. "Milord…it is true that Bard Arvyill and I got off to a poor start. I can find no fault in the man, and I concede I have no right to seek fault. Possibly we are too alike, for our first conflict centered on the honor of this household."

An almost imperceptible thaw. "Indeed?"

Tread carefully, Kyminn. "We have come to the agreement that it was a misunderstanding. Honor has been satisfied on both sides. The matter is settled."

"And yet, it seems it is not."

Oh! A sea of problems with that one! "Milord Baron…Bard Arvyill expressed concern for Lady Ellin's welfare. As her intended, this is not only within his rights, it is to be expected. Where we differ is in how current circumstances can best effect her safety. I believe you can attribute it to divergent approaches to the same end."

"You use pretty words almost as well as a Bard does, boy. Don't think I haven't noticed how the two of you very neatly danced around the truth this morning. Not a single lie, but nothing like the truth either."

Kyminn had no choice but to acknowledge the truth of the baron's words. "As the matter had been resolved, it seemed unmannerly to bring our dirty linen to the breakfast table. You are correct in that we did not offer the entire truth. I could see no benefit – and much harm – were we to do so."

"First, do no harm. That's what you Healers believe, isn't it?" It was a growl, but there was no heat behind it.

"Aye, milord. I've found that it had served me well in other areas of life as well." You haven't talked your way further into trouble Kyminn, stop while you can.

"So. So and so and so." A dismissive wave brushed the matter aside. "Tell me about Ellin and the drills."

"Milord?" The abrupt shift caught Kyminn off guard.

"Is she as good as she thinks she is? Or as good as you suggested to Arvyill?"

Kyminn blinked. "Milord, do you mean is she capable of leading the drills? Yes, milord, very much so. Do I believe she'd make a good cavalry officer? Yes milord – with the caveat that she currently lacks many years of arms training to do so effectively."

"Good. I was afraid you'd gone stupid on me." The grunt was humorous this time.

"Milord?"

"I was thinking you thought she should run off and join the Guard. Glad to see that's not what you meant."

"Oh. No, milord, that's not what I meant. I meant only to say that she seems, to my admittedly untrained eye, to lack neither the brains nor native ability to make a fair field commander." Kyminn finally let himself settle gingerly into his chair.

"For what it's worth, I agree. What do you think I should do about it?" The baron steepled his hands pensively.

"Milord?" Kyminn gaped. "Milord, I wouldn't presume to speculate on what you should do with respect to your daughters."

"If you were me, in this environment, what would you do?" The baron finally gave a faint smile. "You have my word that I won't take it amiss. I'm curious to see what you're thinking, is all."

Kyminn paused to marshal his thoughts. Working through his ideas as they came to him, he began slowly. "Milord, you told me that you had to resign your position in the Guard before your term was up. The title."

The baron nodded and gestured for Kyminn to continue.

"Well, milord, I know that you were there long enough to learn the fundamentals of the drills and tactics. I don't believe you were in long enough to attend any of the advanced strategy courses, or be promoted to captain."

The baron merely settled back, his silence an invitation.

"But you learned small unit drills and basic tactics. The first thing everyone learns, after the basic commands, is the short charge – using formed cavalry against dismounted troops – usually no bigger than a squad." The ideas were forming up now, and the words began to spill out. "With so much of the Guard drawn down to the front, local defense is going to become a concern, if it hasn't already." Kyminn thought back to the alert sentries and well maintained defenses he'd observed on that first day.

"I'd hazard that it's something you've already considered. With farmers displaced by the war, and Guard patrols thinner on the ground, it's more likely that the opportunistic – or just plain hungry – will turn to raiding for their upkeep.

"But you have cavalry training. And now, some of your grooms – and one of your daughters – know the basics as well. If I were you, I'd make sure those skills didn't get rusty. Admittedly, you'll have to start all over since I'm taking all your trained horses, but you won't need prime beasts for this. Any reasonably fit animal would do. Even Arvyill's little mare could learn the basics. You wouldn't be up against Tedrels, Karsites or even hardened bandits. You'd be much more likely to find yourself facing a half-armed mob really. I'm no tactician, but I don't think a group of vagabonds would be able to tell the difference between a formal cavalry charge and some decently trained armsmen."

Kyminn wound down. As he drew a breath, one last, unwelcome thought occurred to them. "Finally, milord, although you are not _on_ the border, you are within a bare few days' march of it. In the event the war turns against us, it may be that even a partly trained group such as I've described would buy enough time for the rest of the holding to flee to safety." That the 'partly trained group' might contain one of the baron's daughters, and that it was unlikely in the extreme that the group would survive; that part Kyminn left unsaid.

The baron gave a slow nod, both for Kyminn's observations and the parts he had withheld. "Would it surprise you to know that I've petitioned the crown for permission to do as you've described? Oh, not quite in the same way you've outlined, but the broad strokes are the same. I've held off until I get that permission. The crown, you see, takes a dim view of her nobles raising household troops, even with the best of intentions."

Kyminn blanched. He'd forgotten about that rather glaring problem. His expression congealed into one of utter horror.

The baron's laugh was genuine. "Oh lad, you should see the look on your face! You look like I'm about to turn you in for treason!" At that word, Kyminn's face paled even further. One trial for treason was enough for several lifetimes.

"Never fear lad, this was in the works as soon as I got word of the levy and your coming here for training. I started to figure out how we were going about it and realized there might be a need for more than the king anticipated. I'm expecting he'll approve the request, along with some very strict limitations on the numbers and types of troops allowed. I don't see us forming any pike battalions any time soon. In the meantime, I'm not going to do a thing without his permission."

Kyminn gave a weak smile and struggled to restart his breathing.

"So. You have an appointment with Fergis, yes?" The baron rose and Kyminn quickly followed suit. "Yes, milord."

"Good. I'll see you this afternoon then. I want to see what those dogs of yours can do!"


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The meeting with the steward served to calm Kyminn's jangled nerves. He suspected it would be a very, very long time before he ventured any opinions on the affairs of nobles. Not for the first time, he wished he was much, much better at keeping his mouth shut.

Fergis had managed to track down all the appropriate records and documents. The most difficult part of the process was determining a fair value for the animals in question. The baron, naturally, wanted the best possible price for his beasts; while Kyminn wanted to get the best price for the crown. Here, Kyminn's summer spent as a horse broker stood him in good stead. He had a very good sense of how value fluctuated from region to region and from beast to beast. Fergis, attentive to the needs of his master, tended to remind Kyminn frequently that the war was causing a shortage of horses and, as a result, their value was commensurably greater.

Kyminn countered by pointing out that the price of feed had also increased, so the cost of maintaining the beasts would have an equal drain on the estate's coffers. By reducing the number of horses to feed, the estate would benefit.

They went back and forth in a similar fashion for some time. Fewer horses meant less land could go under production. True, but the baron had known the war was coming and increased his breeding program to compensate. Yes, but that program was – literally – still in its infancy. In the meantime, they would still be short. Granted, but with markets suppressed, the baron could afford to have a few more fields lie fallow. And so on.

In the end, they managed to come to an agreement. Privately, Kyminn thought the crown had overpaid by a trifle, but not enough to upset the exchequer. Judging from Fergis's expression, the steward felt the crown could afford to cough up substantially more. One of them was bound to be right.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn was a bit surprised at how much he was looking forward to working out with the dogs once again. He's spent plenty of time with them during his time at Seven Springs, but he didn't need his Gifts to know they were eager to don their armour again.

At Kyminn's suggestion, the first demonstration involved various of the baron's retainers taking on the dogs with training blades. At first, the men were tentative, but the dog's persistence and lightning-quick movements quickly overcame the men's reluctance to engage. First one on one, then both dogs took on a single opponent. The latter bouts ended rapidly, always with the arms-man coming off a poor second. Two men versus one dog was better, but the dogs generally managed to make substantial contact in the process.

Finally, Kyminn himself geared up and took on the dogs. As he did so, he explained the various approaches, techniques, and skills the dogs had learned. The fact that he was able to Mindspeak the dogs and direct their movements "Low strike, near leg" or "Side rush, shield side" helped tremendously. To the watchers, it must have seemed as though the dogs were trained to a nigh-miraculous level. It was a problem that Kyminn had encountered at Warford. Sometimes, there was simply no way to get people to understand what Gifts did. Still, he was taken aback at the spontaneous applause which greeted the demonstration.

As he stepped back and let the dogs train the armsmen (there was no other way to describe it, really), Kyminn raised an eyebrow at the baron. "Well, milord? Did it meet your expectations?"

"Very interesting, Kyminn. I rather regret my own dogs won't be able to learn the trick of it." The baron's tone was almost wistful.

"I have had the pleasure of visiting your kennels many times during my stay here, milord, and while I wish it were otherwise, I'm afraid I must agree. Your own dogs are almost exclusively coursing hounds, suitable for small to medium game or deer. You don't keep boarhounds or any of the livestock guard breeds. Those, we could work with. You have some very intelligent stock dogs – I was extremely impressed by your 'Merlin' bloodline of tri-colours. We have actually tried that breed as a defensive sort, but while they are excellent at alerting, they simply don't have the appropriate instinct for battle."

The baron nodded. "Maybe I should consider investing in some mastiffs." It was impossible to tell whether he was serious or not. Remembering his newfound determination not to comment on how nobles managed their affairs, Kyminn said only, "Only you can decide if that would meet your needs, milord. Should you decide to do so, and if I am able, I would be happy help you find suitable animals."

"Hmm." But it was thoughtful, not dismissive. "Did you and Fergis get the documents prepared?"

"We did, milord. They are ready for review and I am available at your convenience." A half bow.

"Good. Let's say the fourth hour then. There's a few things that I want to do first." The baron returned to the keep, leaving Kyminn to oversee the dogs and the armsmen.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn presented himself at the baron's study precisely at the appointed hour. Unsurprisingly, Fergis was there already although the steward gave no indication that he felt the Healer was tardy. Gratifyingly, the review went very well. The baron seemed pleased enough with the values assigned although he questioned both men closely as to what considerations had led to each determination. Satisfied that the amounts represented fair value, the baron had only a few minor corrections to note – most of them questions of detail rather than substantive changes. Finally, the baron thanked Fergis for the steward's diligence on the matter and dismissed the man to his interrupted duties.

Not likewise dismissed, Kyminn hesitated, unsure if he should follow the steward. A brief gesture from the baron held the Healer to his seat. Kyminn waited, wondering if another uncomfortable interrogation was about to ensue.

"So." Whether a verbal tic or whether the baron had a sparse vocabulary, the word seemed to be a favorite for introducing a new topic. Kyminn waited politely.

"I have no need of mastiffs, boar hounds, or other hunting dogs. But," the baron leaned forward. "I have been giving some thought to your comment about livestock protection dogs. I think they might have a place here."

Kyminn wondered if this was going to end up in the territory of 'telling a noble how to manage his affairs'. On the other hand, Kyminn _did_ know dogs. So…

"I see, milord. What did you have in mind?" That seemed a relatively safe inquiry.

"This barony is mostly small farm holdings, but we do keep a fair number of cattle and a modest number of sheep. At the moment, donkeys are serving us quite well as livestock guardians. With the war, though…" his tone invited Kyminn to fill in the blank.

"It is possible your donkeys and mules would be subject to levy." Kyminn nodded in sudden understanding. "That would leave your livestock vulnerable to predators. I believe I see your point, milord."

"Yes. There are a number of breeds who are known to serve well in that role. In many cases, they can also be trained as household guards. I can see a coming need for them in both roles."

"I presume, milord, that you feel I may have some part in this?" The verbal ground began to feel decidedly boggy.

"I do. You will recall the various discussions we've had over the past fortnight. Discussions of the levy and the various personalities and issues you are likely to encounter?"

"I do, milord." Kyminn affirmed. Those conversations had been priceless. Kyminn now had a much clearer idea of which nobles were likely to be cooperative, which reluctant, and which outright obstreperous. In addition, the baron had provided a great deal of background on the shifting alliances and history of the parties involved. He now knew, for example, that one noble was likely to conceal a particular bloodline of blue roan hunters, but that same noble might be more agreeable to surrendering a gelding or three if Kyminn hinted that the Healer planned to levying some of a rival's high-bred mares as well.

Likewise, Kyminn now knew that there were at least two estates which were likely to require the full weight of the Royal Warrant and/or the offices of the Herald. Kellix had offered some gossip – most of it related to business and marital prospects that could be blocked by the king – that might be useful in that regard.

Lord Kellix produced a map of the region. Clearly, he'd come prepared for whatever he planned to propose. "It's my understanding that you will be visiting these estates," the baron pointed, "in this order, yes?"

Kyminn scanned the map and nodded his agreement. "Yes, milord. Those are my fourth, fifth, and sixth stops, respectively."

"Thought I remembered it aright. Now, you're also _not_ scheduled to stop here, at Barrowshall, right?" A small spur off the main route marked the holding.

Kyminn furrowed his brow in thought. "No, milord, I don't believe I am."

"No reason why you should, lad. Baronet Keegshill keeps a small holding. Ground over there is rocky and not good for much beyond root crops. What it _is_ good for is sheep and goats. Barrowshall produces some of the highest-grade wool in the district. I hear they're even experimenting with a new breed of mountain animal, something between a sheep and a chirra."

"I see, milord. Or rather, I'm not sure that I do." Kyminn still had very little idea where this conversation was heading. He just knew he was profoundly confused.

"Keegshill doesn't need – or keep – many horses. That's probably why he wasn't included in this round of the levy. What he _does_ keep, are dogs. Specifically, livestock dogs." The baron tilted his head, waiting.

"I see." Kyminn examined the map again, paying rather more attention to the region in question. If he pushed it, he could make the distance between _this_ _village here_ and _that village there_ in two days, instead of three. It would mean a winter camp, but assuming the weather cooperated, it was certainly doable. Furthermore, he could probably make up more time on _this road_ and _at that junction._ Oh! And wasn't that just such an _interesting_ notation in that town just outside of Barrowshall? Hmmm. Yes, this side trip had a great deal to recommend it...

He looked up from the map to see the baron watching him, a faint smile on the man's face. His tone was serious though, as he spoke, "I'm well aware that the levy must remain your absolute priority. I am not suggesting you do anything which interferes with that fundamental duty, is that understood?"

Kyminn nodded, his voice equally grave. "I do milord."

"BUT… _If_ you were able to manage the trip, and _if_ circumstances permitted…would you be willing to act as _my_ agent in obtaining a few dogs for the keep here?"

Kyminn thought that over very, very carefully. "Milord, as you said, this is not on my intended route. Also, there are a number of factors, weather chiefest amongst them, which may preclude such a trip. However, there _are_ some factors which make it something I should consider. One of those factors is a request from the Healer's Circle to obtain more dogs suitable for battlefield search and rescue. I've already given that matter a great deal of thought and I've decided that breeds such was we've just discussed would probably be the best choice. They are protective without the aggressive defense of dogs like the mastiffs, they are generally very intelligent, and they have a number of other traits which make them well suited to the task. There are some other factors that support this detour, but I'd rather not go into them at this time."

The baron considered that for a moment. "I won't press you then Healer. You've certainly shown yourself to put your duty first and I don't see you making such an arduous detour if it didn't support that."

"I thank you, Lord Kellix. If you have nothing else for me, I believe I have some documents to prepare on milord's behalf. May borrow this map for the time being?" At the baron's nod of assent, Kyminn took his leave. He had a great deal of correspondence to prepare.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Preparing the records was exacting, but straightforward. Kyminn took the time to check and recheck each document. He was determined the baron would find no fault. Once those were set aside, he began work on the difficult correspondence – the reports to his various superiors. Trying to keep the report factual while neither damning with faint praise nor shouting 'more nobles should be like Baron Dunn' proved an interesting challenge. Still, by the time all was complete, he believed he'd presented an honest account.

Signing and sealing the various documents was a surprisingly simple process. It was the first time Kyminn had had reason to use his sigil and he felt a little odd in doing so. Every Healer carried on his person a small enameled disc bearing the Healer's emblem. The obverse of the disc was in Healer green, with the emblem rendered in silver. On the reverse was stamped the year of that Healer's qualification, the Healer's initials and a stamp representing the current Dean. Such discs weren't especially difficult to duplicate, but they _were_ easy to verify and the penalties for falsifying them were severe.

The majority of Healers lacked a family crest or seal for authenticating documents, so the sigil was used instead. The stamped reverse was pressed into the wax, alongside the Healer's signature. It was a peculiar feeling to see his own simple mark alongside the baron's elaborate seal.

With departure looming, Kyminn threw himself into preparing for the next leg of his journey. Two grooms would accompany him and the horses to the next guard station. Although they would be expecting to stay in small villages enroute, it was unlikely there would be sufficient stabling for so many visiting animals. As a result, several of the horses would carry feed and other supplies. It was only a four-day trip, but there were a surprising number of details to arrange.

 _SCENE BREAK_

As had become customary, Kyminn and the rest of the household gathered in a small drawing room before dinner. Although they seldom interacted, by tacit agreement the Healer and Bard had set aside their differences for the remainder of Kyminn's visit. The footman's knock, the usual announcement that dinner was ready, brought everyone to their feet.

"Milord Baron, Lady Dunn, the Herald has arrived. As you directed, I have brought her to you directly." With a bow and flourish, the footman stepped aside to admit a figure in white.

"Milord, Milady – Herald Tarva."

Kyminn burst into a grin, but protocol prevented him from blurting out a greeting. The last time he had seen Herald Tarva had been in Oakden, two and a half years before.

"Good evening, Baron, Lady Dunn." Still striking with her autumn-hued hair and deep green eyes, to Kyminn's eye, Tarva hadn't aged a day in the intervening years. He suspected the Herald would be one of those magnificent women who remains gracefully ageless until time finally claimed her.

"And Kyminn!" There was genuine pleasure in the Herald's voice. "I was hoping I'd get here before you left."

Kyminn offered the Herald the formal bow the setting seemed to demand. "I'm very glad to see you, Herald Tarva. Aelish is well?"

"She's fine, thank you. She sends her greetings as well."

"Herald Tarva," the baron recaptured the Herald's attention. "I realize that your duty doesn't permit you to stay with us during your circuit, but would it extend to having you join us for dinner? Or at least long enough for you to warm up?"

"Thank you, Lord Kellix. I'd be pleased to join you. Actually, I'm hoping I can claim a bit of your time to find out what your most urgent needs are." Not even the baron was immune to the Herald's commanding presence. The baron was nodding almost before he'd decided to do so.

"Milord Baron, Herald Tarva, if the Companion Aelish has no objection, I'd be happy to see that she's seen to. That way Herald Tarva doesn't have to go back into the cold."

"Aelish says that would be fine. Thank you, Kyminn." At Tarva's nod, Kyminn excused himself to those present and slipped out.

Settling Aelish was straightforward. Kyminn ruthlessly evicted one of the stallions from his spacious stall, relegating him to a standard standing stall for the duration. It was the matter of a few moments to thoroughly clean the stall and lay down fresh straw. The baron's grooms were diligent and took pride in their work – there was actually little soil to clean.

An equally thorough scrub of the water bucket, fresh water, hay and grain. Finally, a bit of rope fastened to the various latches, should Aelish wish to leave the stall. Kyminn held up a brush and comb. "Quick clean up or thorough? Which do you prefer? Quick?" At the Companion's nod, Kyminn was quite happy to give her a quick, but complete rub down while she enjoyed her grain. At another nod from the Companion, he left her rugged up and relaxing. She would be warm, fed and rested when the time came for she and her Chosen to venture back into the cold night.

Kyminn ducked back into his room long enough to manage a quick wash and change. Although most decidedly _not_ horses, Companions _smelled_ like them. While Tarva no doubt wouldn't mind, the baron – and Lady Dunn – most definitely would mind it if one of the dinner guests smelled like the Stable.

Much to his irritation, Kyminn realized that he wasn't the only one who'd taken the time to change. During his trip to the Stable, Tarva had taken the opportunity to freshen up and put on clean Whites. _That_ was to be expected. Less expected, and less welcome, was the fact that Arvyill had used the opportunity to change into his formal Scarlets. Whether it was out of genuine respect for the Herald, or simply another case of Bardic theatre was impossible to determine, but it left Kyminn, wearing his workaday greens, feeling distinctly second class and shabby.

The conversation over dinner was wide ranging and interesting. By unspoken agreement, the matter of the war was left for another setting. Tarva made the interesting observation that they had present "Heraldic, Bardic, and Healer's circles. Nearly have the whole of the country represented. Just missing a blue uniform."

"Milord Baron is a retired Guardsmen," Kyminn pointed out. "Will that do?"

"Well said, Kyminn, I suppose it does." Tarva gave him a warm smile.

"Actually," Arvyill said thoughtfully, "I think we actually represent a wider cross section than just those four major bodies." He started indicating people around the table, "Noble birth," that was the baron, of course. "Ennobled by marriage," that was the baroness, much to Kyminn's surprise. "Country born, of a craftsmen's family," the bard pointed to Kyminn. "City born, of a merchant family," the bard had mentioned that he was a candlemaker's son.

"And I'm a small-town farmer's child," Tarva added. "Quite right, Bard Arvyill. This table represents all the many faces of Valdemar." Her gaze flicked over the Bard and Kyminn's fading bruises. "It's good to know so many different voices can come together in harmony." Her tone was ironic.

Immediately after the dinner was concluded, the Baron and Herald removed themselves to the baron's study, presumably to discuss any critical matters within the barony. Feeling a bit like a fox waiting outside a mouse hole, Kyminn waited in the drawing room for them to emerge.

"…I'll have to ask for Herald's judgement on that matter," the baron was saying as the door finally opened. "I've made my own ruling, but Master Ottar is appealing."

Kyminn grimaced. The issue of Master Ottar had been discussed a great deal of late. The tenant in question was a pig farmer and he ran pigs in the wood adjacent his small holding. The man paid his rent on time, but the baron suspected the fellow was under-reporting the number of swine he actually owned. The man claimed the usual rate of sow and predator related attrition, but there was more pig sign in the woods than the claimed numbers would account for. Attempts to locate the additional animals had thus far been fruitless, leaving the man free to avoid taxes on them. Master Ottar, for his part, claimed the baron was singling him out due to malice as the pigs had previously caused problems for other tenants.

Kyminn rose as the baron and Herald entered the drawing room, and the baron paused in surprise. "Kyminn? We didn't expect to see you here. You didn't have to stay, you know."

"I'm aware of that, thank you milord. I was hoping I could have a few moments of the Herald's time."

Tarva eyed him speculatively. "Is it urgent?"

He spread his hands in a noncommittal gesture. "Only in that I will be leaving the morning after tomorrow and I will need a decision from you before then."

"I see. How much time to you need?"

That noncommittal gesture again. "What I have to say won't take long. Whether you need to take some time to consider my words…that I can't say."

Heralds are, if nothing else, decisive. "Lord Kellix, if you and are I done for the time being, I'll ask Kyminn here to show me the stables. He and I can discuss his business on the way. If that suits everyone?"

Unsurprisingly, there were no objections.

As Kyminn had indicated, what he had to convey to the Herald didn't take many words.

"…As you can see, I believe it may be more of a necessity than we first thought for me to make this side trip." He pushed open the stable door and gestured Tarva to proceed him.

"I have to admit, you've made a strong case." The Herald eyed the young Healer appraisingly. "To change the subject for a moment, what's up with you and the bard?"

In spite of the darkness, his blush was still clearly visible. "It turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding."

She shook her head and rapped the Healer so sharply on the noggin with her knuckles that his eyes watered. "Stupid little banty cockerels! There's far too much at stake these days for you to let your temper get the better of you like that!"

"I know. I promise, it won't happen again." There was genuine contrition in Kyminn's tone.

"See that it doesn't! You're going to some places where you'll experience far more provocation than one strutting bardling. Lose your temper there and you disgrace yourself, your Circle and the crown." It was grimly warning.

The Herald sighed and relented. "Be that as it may, you've made a good case for your little detour. I'm going to endorse the change and I'll support you to Talamir on this. In fact, we'll adjust your schedule to accommodate it. It's only a matter of a few days so we can stretch things to fit."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Kyminn admitted. "I took the liberty of preparing an adjusted schedule in case you said yes." He held a packet out to the Herald, his expression hopeful.

Both Herald and Companion snorted. "I'm not sure whether I should consider you to be cheeky or well prepared." But it was with a smile.

"One tries, Herald. One tries." He tried very hard not to sound _too_ smug.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

As winter settled in, so too did Kyminn to his role as agent of the levy. His conversations with Lord Kellix had given him insight into his next few stops and he felt reasonably well prepared to handle the recalcitrant landowners. While not outright hostile, the next few decidedly dragged their feet with respect to producing the required quota of suitable animals. He found that he quickly developed a stock series of responses to deal with the most common objections:

 _"_ _You're here to take all my best bloodstock!"_

"The crown forbids me to do so."

 _"_ _Who do you think you are to come in here and make demands?"_

"I'm no one. The King requests and requires your cooperation."

 _"_ _You can't do this!"_

"The King requests and requires your cooperation. You have leave to appeal." This last was more a sop to form than otherwise. Everyone realized that once an animal disappeared into the bureaucracy that was the Guard, the likelihood of it reemerging were slight.

Generally, it only took a few pointed queries about "Those seven hunter mares in the northwest pasture" or "the group of three year olds you had your woodsmen take into the woods a fortnight ago" for the required animals to be produced.

In one notable standoff, as Kyminn silently pointed, every horse within sight rose on its hind legs in sequence. Realizing that the Healer was prepared to deny the noble control over _any_ of his animals until the Lord complied, the lord conceded. Kyminn slept with the servants in that steading, and the dogs guarded his horses, but the King got his levy. Much as Kyminn would have liked to punitively strip some of the best bloodstock, he instead took extreme care to be scrupulously fair in his selections. When it came to price though, there was no negotiation. Kyminn paid only a strictly calculated average amount and not a single copper more. The exchequer would be pleased, his lordship was not. _This_ report, Kyminn would turn over to Tarva himself. He wasn't going to risk it being 'lost' if he were to leave it with the steward.

Between the fifth and sixth stop, Kyminn made his highly-anticipated detour. As he coaxed Vik into a trot on the last leg into Barrowshall, he grinned to realize he'd been humming cheerfully to himself. As a town, it had little to make it stand out aside from the fact that it enjoyed proximity to three smaller local roads. That happy chance of geography meant that not only were its inn and Guard station somewhat larger than usual, it also boasted a fairly substantial Healer's hall. It was this little item which had caught Kyminn's attention.

The hall at Barrowshall was centered around one of the more common of the Healing orders. Novices trained here would enjoy a good life at one of the many similar temples scattered throughout Valdemar. Many of the more able, as well as those with the Healing Gift, were sent on to Haven for more serious training.

Kyminn swung down from the saddle and stamped his feet in the twilight chill. As a center of Healing, the gate was locked only if the temple were to be threatened directly. Likewise, the gates were always manned, usually by a novice struggling to stay awake. Kyminn produced his sigil and indicated his document case. "I'd like to see the Abbot Superior if I may."

"He'll be in his office, sir. If you go in that door there, someone will direct you. Will you be staying the night? If so, I'll have someone see to your…" the youngster peered into the darkness, his voice rising in pitch at his surprise at the massive dogs. "Er…beasts."

Kyminn smothered a grin. He'd been twelve once. A century or so ago. "Thank you, master novice. I would be grateful."

The outer door opened into a well-lit hall. It wasn't huge, but it would certainly do to manage a dozen or so patients while they waited. A second novice, this one somewhat older, waited to greet arriving patients. She rose when Kyminn entered, blinking a trifle in surprise.

"Healer Kyminn Danner out of Haven. I'm working in this area at the request of Dean Tannel. I was hoping the Abbot Superior would be available to see me?" He pitched it as a request.

"Ah…of course Healer. He's usually doing paperwork this time of day. If you'll follow me? I should let you know, though, that if he's busy you may be asked to wait. Is the matter urgent?"

Kyminn smiled. Interesting how self-confidence came as the novices gained age and a bit of knowledge. "Not urgent, no. I simply wanted to report to him as soon as I could. I have a request to make and I'd rather get it started sooner rather than later."

The abbot's office looked as though it had started its life as a monastic cell. Or three. Heavy beams showed where walls had been removed to accommodate the various bookshelves and cabinets that lined the walls. Judging from the many neat and labeled stacks adorning nearly every available surface, the Abbot was both highly organized and yet woefully behind in his filing.

"Nissa! What brings you here?" The Abbot Superior was a thin little sparrow of a man, a few wisps of hair reminding Kyminn of a bird's downy feathers.

"Abbot Bennit, this is Healer Kyminn Danner out of Haven. Have you time to see him?"

The abbot gestured at one of the two empty spots in the room, a pair of worn chairs opposite his desk. "Certainly!" he looked around with a sigh. "It's not as though I'd made a dent in this mess anyway."

"Now, now there, sir, I see you've got at least three more stacks categorized. Surely that counts for something?" The grin was affectionate.

"True, but _five_ more stacks came in!" He flailed his hands in mock dismay, shooing the girl out.

"Where are my manners? Healer Danner, I'm Abbot Bennit, senior Healer, spiritual master and general wrangler of this little heap of chaos. What brings you to our doors tonight?"

Kyminn couldn't suppress a grin. No wonder the fellow was as thin as a stick, what with the constant energy that poured from him. "Good evening, master Abbot. I'm in the area on a tasking from Dean Tannel and the Heraldic circle. Several landowners have been levied to provide animals for the war effort and I've been sent to collect them."

"I see. So how can we help? To the best of my knowledge, we haven't been asked to supply any beasts."

Kyminn smiled again. "No, you're not on my levy list, never fear. I'm afraid my request is much more…mundane. You see, I came to this task straight from the Karsite lines, and I'm very much afraid my current set of greens reflect that fact. It's been pointed out to me that as I'm representing the crown and circle…" he paused, hopefully.

"That you should probably look the part, yes?" The abbot nodded his understanding. "Yes, our calling does tend to be rather hard on our uniforms, doesn't it?"

Kyminn gave a rueful shrug of agreement. "In addition to some new uniforms, I am very much hoping you might know of where I might buy a set of formals. Some of the places I'm to call on…might take it amiss if I were to be underprepared for the occasion. The levy itself is a delicate request, so respecting those to whom I am presenting it…"

"Might make it a bit easier to swallow, is that it? Like mixing willow with a bit of honey." Creases on the Abbot's face showed that smiles were a common expression.

"Yes sir. Thank you for understanding. Can you help me?"

A brisk, cheerful nod. "I certainly can, Kyminn Danner. We don't have much call for formals, but I find myself expected to wear them for various local events and visiting dignitaries. We certainly know the way of it. I'm not sure, but we may have to dye some of the material, depending on what you decide you want."

"Thank you, Abbot Bennit. I have to admit, it's a weight off my mind!" An equal relief was that Herald Tarva had agreed that both the new uniforms _and_ the formal set were necessary for Kyminn's assignment, so the crown would be willing to bear the cost. He'd been worried he'd have to commit the next several moons worth of stipend on a single set of clothing!

"Not a problem, glad your problem was so easy to solve." The abbot's smile slid away. "If you were at the Karsite border, then you know that many of our patients came from there. Their difficulties, I'm sorry to say, are not so easy."

"I won't be able to stay long, Master Abbot, but I'll of course be happy to do what I can while I am here." This temple had received a substantial number of the more seriously injured as well as those requiring long-term treatment.

"Thank you. Every hand helps." That rapid little nod again. "Can you find your way back to the entrance hall? If you let Nissa know I've said you're to have one of the open cells, she'll show you the way." A brief tilt of the abbot's head reinforced the birdlike mien. "And I'd imagine, you being a young man and all, that you could stand to eat?" It wasn't really a question, to judge by the smile that followed it.

"Anything you have would be welcome, thank you." As though in agreement, Kyminn's stomach produced a very timely growl.

"Happens you arrived in time for dinner. And from the sounds of it, good thing, too!" The abbot shooed Kyminn on his way, much as he had the novice. He was already sorting stacks of records before Kyminn had left the room.

The novice had anticipated the Abbot's instructions and Kyminn's gear was stacked neatly in the front hall. He slung them over his shoulder with the ease of long practice and let the young woman show him to his room. Seeing the small, neat cell evoked an unexpected twinge of nostalgia for the room he'd enjoyed as a Trainee.

The novice must have mistaken his reflective pause for disapproval, for she said, "All the cells are the same…"

He stopped her before she could get too defensive. "It's just fine, thank you Novice Nissa. Truth be told, I've slept in much worse. I'll be quite comfortable here, thank you."

She looked like she wasn't sure she believed him, but was unwilling contradict him. "The dining hall is this way then."

This dining hall was, naturally, smaller than the one at the Collegium, and the robes here were either green or the plain dun of the temple servants and novices. The clatter of dishes and the oddly harmonious rumble of dozens of conversations though, was warmly familiar.

Kyminn scanned the room, nodding to himself with a small smile. "Thank you very much for your able help, Nissa. I believe I can manage on my own from here." He didn't even wait for her response, wending his way through the feet and benches with the ease of long practice.

He fetched up behind a pair of Healers, the pair deep in an animated discussion of bleeding disorders.

"Can't you give that poor intern of yours a rest?" Kyminn's voice was low and stern.

The pair jerked up so quickly their soup splashed onto their protesting neighbours.

"Kyminn!" Eiven's leap from the bench finished what remained of his soup. It finished the neighbours too, as they all departed in haste, dabbing at their well splattered laps.

"Eiven!" Kyminn swept up the Healer in a bear hug. The hug was only mostly spontaneous. Precedent now set, Kyminn could plausibly greet Cydris with an equally warm hug. Well, maybe not equally warm. Cydris was definitely more huggable than Eiven. To his pleased surprise, she hugged him back. Maybe she was just being polite, but he'd take it.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Cydris seemed genuinely glad to see him. "Is it your leg?" She glanced down at the calf she'd treated so ably.

"The leg's fine." He couldn't stop grinning at them both. "I was in the area and had to make a detour. When I found it would take me so close to the temple, I thought up an excuse to stop in."

"Kyminn! You didn't!" Cydris' jaw dropped in (mostly) mock outrage.

He held up his hands in a placating wave, fending off her anger. "No! Really! I really did need to visit a Healing hall or Temple, and when I realized I could stop here, well, it was just extra nuts in the tart when I realized you two might still be here."

"You needed a Healing Hall? You're all right, though?" It was Eiven's turn to be concerned and his eyes started to drift into the familiar 'Healer' expression.

"Eiven!" Kyminn gave his friend a shake. "I said, I'm fine! I just needed some new uniforms and a few specialized things that would be hard to find outside of a Healer's hall. Just gear, honest!"

"Really?" Eiven looked surprised. "You made a detour all the way up here just for some gear? What on earth was it that you couldn't find somewhere else?"

"Well," Kyminn settled down on the bench across from them, snatching one of the small fabric napkins to sop up the puddle of soup, "It's a bit of a long story. I think you two left before I got my assignment, yes?"


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"Well, Kyminn, you certainly do find yourself in interesting places don't you?" Eiven shook his head in slow amazement.

The trio had adjourned to the temple's small barn, partly for the privacy it offered, but mostly because Cydris insisted on greeting the dogs. The dogs, of course, thought this a grand idea.

"So what are your plans then?" Cydris gently scratched the massive head sprawled across her lap. No one who saw Tip's goofy expression and lolling tongue would have believed this was a war dog.

"Tomorrow I'll meet with the seamstress and order everything. I'll leave for the manor the day after." Kyminn leaned against Vik, sharing the horse's warmth.

"So soon? You just got here!" Cydris stopped, embarrassed at her outburst.

"I'm hoping it only takes a day or so to arrange things with the baronet. It's quite possible he won't be able to help me at all. I'll come right back here afterwards for any final fittings. I'm hoping this can be done as a rush job. We really had to stretch the schedule to fit."

"Anything we can do on this end?" Eiven didn't - quite - have a mastiff in his lap, but it wasn't for lack of effort on Bull's part.

"Actually, yes. I have a rather huge favour to ask. If you have to decline though, I'll understand."

"If you want me to marry your sister, I'm afraid the answer is no." Eiven grinned.

"Sorry, no sisters. Just assorted brothers." Kyminn apologized.

"Oh. Well. Brothers are a different story." Eiven gave a small cough.

Kyminn blinked. Oh. So. Somehow, he'd missed that little detail. Huh. Whatever.

"No, no marriage required. It's just that I think I'm going to need your help. I've been thinking…"

"Kyminn, Kyminn, Kyminn." Cydris shook her head in mock sorrow. "I'm pretty sure we warned you about doing that. You're going to hurt yourself one of these days."

Kyminn pretended to flick a horse nugget at her with his toe, prompting a laugh. He went on, "It's this request from Dean Tannel. I think I'll eventually find suitable animals, and training them is easy enough. It's the logistics of it all that have me at a dead end. It's full winter now, and I cover a lot of ground in a day. Even now, I have to watch that Tip and Bull don't get too cold. Generally, they spend part of the day pillion with me or whichever horse has my gear. Housing them at the various inns and estates has gone alright so far, but they do raise a few eyebrows. And that's things with just the two of them…"

"And you're looking at adding how many to your little travelling Faire?" Eiven eyed the two dogs speculatively.

A sigh. "Eight or ten, most likely. Just carrying enough food for all of them would be a problem."

"Which means you want to leave them here? With us?" Eiven's voice rose in an incredulous pitch.

"The abbot will be able to get reimbursement for their food and upkeep from the Circle," Kyminn tried to reassure the other Healer. "My authority extends that far. By this time, I am sure the exchequer is getting rather used to my signature." He essayed a hopeful smile.

"Kyminn," Eiven floundered, clearly at a loss. "I have no idea what the Abbot will say when we tell him you want to board ten dogs with us!"

"To be strictly accurate…"

Eiven grimaced. "By all means. Please, be as accurate as possible. I can't wait to hear this."

"Eiven, leave be." Cydris admonished him. "You know as well as I do why the Circle is doing this. Kyminn's just doing his best."

With a grateful glance, Kyminn returned his attention to the still-reluctant Eiven. "Eiven, any animal I bring will be adult and well started in training. You won't be housebreaking puppies. We need animals that will be ready to work by next spring.

"I'll leave them here with you. You – and you'll need to recruit more hands – will need to carry on the training. I've been working on a list of what needs to be done. _If_ you can get as far as 'Seek', that would be wonderful. If not, I'll do that – along with guard commands – when I come get them."

"That was going to be my next question," Eiven admitted. "What do we do with them in the spring? Cydris and I don't know where we're to be posted. We _think_ it will be back to the front lines, but we have no way to be sure."

"Assuming I am successful with the baronet, I'll make arrangements to come back in the spring and get them. By then the weather will be somewhat better. In any case, they can manage one trip. It's travelling with them for a whole season that was untenable."

Eiven mulled things over, his expression distant. "Alright. We'll support your case with the Abbot. But," he was grave, "If he says no…"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Kyminn agreed.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Two mornings later, Kyminn found himself once again in the saddle on a frozen winter's morning. Presenting his proposal to the Abbot had actually been a much harder sell than he had expected. While the Abbot agreed in principle with the idea, he was not convinced it was the best use of their limited manpower. As the temple was part of a religious order and in no way answerable to the crown, Kyminn could only request, not compel.

In the end, it required the dogs providing a live demonstration, Eiven's accepting responsibility for the program, _and_ Kyminn's agreement that the crown would pay the hire of two additional servants to compensate for the missing labour. Kyminn signed the necessary approvals without hesitation. By the time the exchequer complained, it would be too late. If they wanted to take it out of his less-than-extravagant stipend, so be it. Pauper's gaol might even be quieter. He'd miss the dogs though.

 _SCENE BREAK_

To say that Baronet Keegshill was not expecting the crown to come calling would be an understatement. He was, however, more than happy to welcome Kyminn and show him his kennels. After much discussion and negotiation, they finally settled on some suitable animals for Lord Kellix. Rather than pay the exorbitant fees required to transport the animals over winter, the animals in question would be delivered the following spring. A total of six animals would be delivered: an adult male, already trained as a guard dog along with two, started one-year old males. All would be from separate bloodlines and would become foundation sires. The other three were females guaranteed to be pregnant. These would be a mix of bloodlines, but the pending litters would be from separate sires. It would be several generations before Lord Kellix would need to be concerned about his bloodlines being bred back too closely.

Settling on animals for the Healers was more complex. It helped that Kyminn was more than happy to consider the various crossbreeds the baronet had been experimenting with. In some situations, the baronet's keen interest in all matters canine might have been variously considered to be focused, obsessive or even frankly eccentric. Kyminn was more than happy to let the man natter on, absorbing the baronet's insight and advice. It was only when the man began to wax poetic on the possibilities suggested by the mythical 'giant talking wolves of yore' that Kyminn finally redirected the discussion.

Still, after little more than a day, Kyminn was on his way back to the temple. Trotting along at his heels were no less than a dozen new dogs. Most were some version of a rough-coated guardian breed, square muzzled and boxy bodied. Tan with black saddles predominated, although three were nearly solid black.

The mastiffs had been disinclined to share their master with the interlopers, although they did make an exception for the four bitches present. It took a great deal of firm instruction on Kyminn's part before the growling and snapping finally subsided. Eiven's eyebrows had climbed nearly into his hairline when he saw the tumbling mass that followed Kyminn, but he said nothing. He did, eventually, crack a ghost of a smile when they sat down in ranks before him, their wagging tails sweeping snow off the flagstones. "Show off."

 _SCENE BREAK_

A scant four days later, Kyminn was in the saddle again. Two sets of formal greens, along with several new uniforms and various trail rations now filled his packs. Behind him trotted the two mastiffs and a third, shaggy beast. He still wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow this dun female had attached herself to him and refused to be shifted. He could have insisted she stay, but found himself oddly reluctant to do so. Be it Foresight or fatigue, it didn't really matter. He could manage the extra mouth to feed and her warmth would be welcome on the cold nights to come. The delay, brief as it had been, meant he would be riding well into the evenings and camping in the cold most nights. He had nine days until he reached his next destination and he'd best be prepared. He knew full well Lord Corbie was going to choke on the levy. It was up to Kyminn to make sure he swallowed it.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 26

 _A/N At some point later this month I will be going on hiatus. Not only do I expect to spend some time focusing on family, I will also be away from my computer. Updates may be sparse or absent until the new year._

Kyminn was due at Lord Corbie's estate in nine days. Midmorning on the seventh day, he arrived in the moderately sized town that had grown up to support the manor. It had been a grueling trip, but he'd met his schedule. Meeting the viscount was going to require considerable preparation.

The innkeeper was perfectly happy to take in an additional guest so late in the season. The fact that Kyminn didn't barter excessively in arranging care for the horses and dogs no doubt helped. A few additional coins in the hands of the washerwoman meant his clothes would shortly be once again presentable.

A private room and unlimited bathwater made an equally substantial improvement in both his appearance and outlook. The inn's cook was not the equal of Lord Kellix's kitchen, but then, few were. It was still an improvement over trail rations and Kyminn's own rough-and-ready cooking. The youth serving the taproom didn't seem surprised when Kyminn arranged to have a midafternoon tray of bread, cheese, and stewed fruit delivered to his room.

Warm, clean and with a quite adequate lunch digesting in his belly, it was time to go to work. After making sure the door was bolted against interruptions, Kyminn made himself comfortable on the bed and _reached._

The dogs and horses were fine, warm and resting. Good. Reach again – _there_! The familiar mind of a raven. Kyminn liked working with ravens. They were one of the most intelligent of the corvids and their size and stamina meant they could travel substantial distances.

Kyminn spent the next several candlemarks in the company of the raven. The bird had acute hearing, and perching in the stable rafters proved extremely enlightening. The grooms knew better than to question their orders, but they had more than a few pithy opinions on the fact that they were now expected to treat broken down nags as though they were prized bloodstock. Even more interesting was the head groom's directions on how to make those same nags look like quality beasts.

 _"_ _That one, the one with the abscess on his off hind foot. When the buyer comes, we'll fill the hole with these herbs and a bit of clay to mask the smell of the infection. A bit of poppy will let him seem aright and we'll pinch the hock just before. That'll numb the foot and let him stand straight."_

 _"_ _This one, she's a dullard and has no go in her a'tall. Trim her mane and tail to make her look nice. If we run a bit of glue along her crest, under her mane, the skin'll pull tight and she'll have a nice, arched neck. It'll pinch a bit too and make her look like she's got some energy. We'll dose her with a bit of this brandy-brew too. That'll put a little pep in her step. She'll look really classy – at least long enough."_

The groom went on in a similar vein for quite some time: potions and brews to calm or invigorate animals as the situation required, oils and polishes worked into hides to conceal a dull or patchy coat. Plasters and glues designed to pull bent hocks straight, infusions to make broken lungs sound fit. If there was a trick to make a broken-down horse look good, this man knew them all.

When the conversation moved on to other things, Kyminn took the raven off. Listening to the grooms had given him a good idea of which animals he was looking for. By the end of the afternoon, he'd located quite a few of the missing beasts, although there were still many unaccounted for. Still, he counted it a good day's labours. Stretching, stiff from sitting for so long, he rose and opened the shutter. The raven hopped nervously, uncertain at the idea of entering this strange, human place.

The serving lad had indeed delivered the requested tray and Kyminn let the raven eat all the cheese and fruit it wanted. Normally, the bird would have spent the day foraging for food. Kyminn wasn't going to let the animal starve as a result of his own interference.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Formal greens, while impressive, turned out to be not particularly warm. At the Abbot's suggestion, Kyminn had also ordered a heavy, formal cloak. That the fur trim was lowly rabbit instead of ermine was irrelevant – it was warm.

Healer, horses and dogs were clean and groomed to a high polish when the cavalcade arrived at Lord Corbie's gate. Kyminn had managed to locate the majority of the 'redistributed' horses and was quite aware that his presence in the village had been reported to Lord Corbie. By that token, the gate guard should have been expecting him.

"Healer Kyminn Danner, out of Haven. I request an audience with Lord Corbie on the King's business." Kyminn proffered the letter of introduction.

The guard made no move to take it. "Milord isn't receiving visitors. If the King wants to send someone," the sneer was palpable, "He'll send someone fit to speak to milord. Not some trumped up Healer."

Kyminn didn't twitch a muscle, although all three dogs came up and sat in a neat line beside Kyminn's horse. While the animals made no threatening moves, they did look at the guard with an uncomfortable level of interest.

"As an agent of the king, I have the right to be admitted to anyone named in this letter. Viscount Corbie is so named. You will announce me."

"No, I won't. Milord isn't receiving the likes of you. You can threaten me with your little pets all you like, they'll just end up full of arrow shafts in the end."

Kyminn, well aware that this little scene was playing out in front of an audience, moved Vik up until the horse was beside the guard. Kyminn bent down enough that his next words were for the guard's ears only.

"Armsman, you have what I would call a problem. You see, I'm going to have an audience with your lord. Whether that happens now, or it happens in a few days with a Herald and company of Guard at my heels is up to you. If I have to return with a Herald and armed troops, _someone_ is going to answer to the king.

"Now, who do you suppose that will be? Lord Corbie? Or you, the sentry who so clearly 'misunderstood' your Lord's orders to admit me? If you let me in, your Lord can dismiss you. In that case, I'll see you get a good recommendation, for clearly you were an honest fellow, following your Lord's express wishes. Continue to obstruct me and I'll return with those troops. Then I'll charge you with disobedience to a command of your king. Your choice. You can't win here. All you can do is choose which option is likely to make you lose the least."

The man paled, and to his credit, stood his ground for a few moments longer. Kyminn said nothing, he merely let the man consider things. Finally, reluctantly, the man stood aside and pulled the gate just enough to admit Kyminn.

The manservant at the door of the keep was as unhappy to see Kyminn as the sentry had been. As house staff, though, the man enjoyed a social standing considerably higher than that of a common armsman. As his first words showed, he was more than willing to take advantage of this fact.

"We have not requested your services." This sneer was even more arrogant than the sentry's. "You may proceed to the servant's entrance in the unlikely event you will be welcome there."

"I will not." That bald statement caused a flicker of surprise. Clearly, this manservant was unused to backtalk.

"I am an agent of the King, here to speak to Lord Corbie on the king's business. You will kindly admit me and inform his lordship that I am here." Kyminn's tone was polite, without rancor.

"His lordship declines to see you." A gleam of triumph lit the butler's face.

"His lordship has no choice in this matter. As he is well aware. I'm sure that a just and able master such as Lord Corbie has no intention of putting you between his lordship and the wishes of the king. It would be…regrettable in the extreme if it were found you had overstepped your authority and caused his lordship difficulties with the crown. Still, I imagine his lordship would forgive the fault."

Eyes narrowed. Like the sentry, the butler knew exactly where the axe would fall if fault were to be found. With manifest reluctance, the manservant stepped back a bare half-pace.

"My horses and dogs require stabling. The dogs will remain with my horses – and personal goods – until milord assigns me rooms." Kyminn hadn't moved.

"I'm sure Lord Corbie will dispose of your business quickly. The animals will remain here." Having yielded once, the butler was digging in his heels.

"It is midwinter. They cannot remain outdoors. Either you call for a stable boy, or they follow me into your hall. But I assure you, they will _not_ remain outside." Both horses perked up their ears and moved towards the door.

"You wouldn't dare!" the man was aghast.

"I can, I would, and I will." It was iron, and one hand rested on his sword.

Kyminn could hear the man's teeth grinding, but he summoned a hall boy to fetch a groom. Kyminn's gaze didn't leave the butler's as he gave the dogs an audible command to "Guard" the horses. Manservant and Healer stared at each other in silence until the grooms arrived to take the horses. Finally, with a tiny nod, Kyminn entered the keep.

The butler showed Kyminn to a small anteroom, the sort of space vendors and petitioners would be expected to wait. The chairs were plain and uncomfortable, the fire a bare ember. Not surprisingly, he was offered no refreshment. A small smile. Perfect. He added wood profligately until the fire was a cheery blaze and the room began to warm. The task let him stay firmly linked to the dogs as he observed the groom's treatment of the horses. The mastiffs followed at the groom's heels, watching as water and grain were drawn from common containers. That the dogs very ostentatiously sniffed the stalls as well as all the food and water sent clear message to the grooms that it would be unwise in the extreme if something were to 'accidentally' happen to the feed. Only when the dogs had looked it all over carefully did the dogs step aside and let the horses eat. That the horses were willing to wait, and the dogs so diligent, was ascribed to an astonishing level of training rather than the fact that Kyminn was directing the whole puppet show from a distance.

Kyminn settled in to wait. He expected that Lord Corbie would keep him cooling his heels for at least a candlemark. That was fine. Kyminn was quite happy to find the boarhound in the viscount's study and listen to the man's aggrieved ranting at Kyminn's presence. As it turned out, the Viscount had an extensive, if unimaginative, vocabulary.

After the prescribed candlemark, Kyminn stepped into the main foyer and interrupted the first servant he saw. The maid seemed startled, and Kyminn was careful to maintain a tone of quiet courtesy. He had no cause to involve her in the unfolding drama. He merely asked her to inform the butler that he wished to speak to that worthy. While he had no doubt the woman would convey the request, Kyminn put the odds no greater than 50% that the butler would actually comply.

The butler, however, did comply, although he was by no means prompt in his response. Kyminn failed to notice the snub and merely inquired as to when Lord Corbie might be available.

"I have informed His Lordship of your arrival." The butler neatly sidestepped any responsibility for the delay. "The Viscount will see you at a time of his choosing."

"The Viscount," Kyminn retorted, "was aware that the King's agent would be here today. Ask the viscount if he is going to set a time to see me or if I am to track him down and ask him myself."

"If you do that, I'll have you thrown out." The manservant's face was red with anger.

"And you may succeed. At which point I will return with a Herald. And a company of the Guard. And we _will_ see the Viscount, preferably in stocks in the courtyard." Kyminn's cold rage washed over the butler's pompous posturing, leaving the man agape in shock.

"You would _dare_ raise arms against Lord Corbie?"

"I would not. I will, however, enforce the King's Warrant with whatever means necessary. I have an appointment with the Viscount. I expect him to keep it."

Kyminn tried, but failed, to feel pity for the butler as the cringing man conveyed Kyminn's message. Clearly the butler was a man cut from the same cloth as his master; one accustomed to using his position to bully those of lower station. The boarhound's lip curled in an unconscious imitation of Kyminn's own feelings of contempt.

Lord Corbie saw fit to keep Kyminn waiting further, but not – quite – enough to provoke the Healer into carrying out his threat to seek out the Lord directly. Not surprisingly, Kyminn was not offered a seat in the Viscount's presence, nor was he offered the hospitality of refreshment.

"You are an insolent cur," judging from the vein throbbing in the viscount's forehead, the emotion was real and not just for show.

"I am only a servant of the crown, seeking to do my duty as best I can." Kyminn's bow had been precise, if a trifle more hasty than the viscount thought proper.

"Poacher. Thief." Scorn.

"Servant. Agent." Kyminn met him, stare for stare.

"The animals are in the stable. Take them and be gone."

"I will examine the animals you have offered to determine if they are suitable." Kyminn had yet to raise his voice.

"You will take what I give you and be done with it!" Noble fists slammed down on the desk in a storm of pique.

"I will do my duty, milord. I'm sure you would do the same." It was still mild.

"Get out." The gesture was curt and vaguely obscene. Kyminn merely bowed, and in a calculated move, turned his back on the viscount as he left.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn's visit to the stable was brief, but he made a point of examining every beast there. The head groom attempted to extoll the (nonexistent) virtues of each animal, but soon gave up when Kyminn failed to hear him. The one thing that was accomplished was that Kyminn used his Gifts on such animals as he could, including the horse with the painful abscess. Given how cleverly the defects had been camouflaged, it would actually be some time before the grooms realized the condition of the horses had improved.

"I regret, milord Viscount, that none of the animals presented are suitable for the king's needs." Kyminn's presence at the door of the study was grossly unwelcome. "This does not, as yet, pose a difficulty. My duty means I am prepared to visit the various other farms under milordship's administration in search of suitable animals."

"You will not leave the grounds of this keep. Nor will you go in search of any other animals. My word on this steading is law and by the gods, I'll see you obey it. Those are the only animals I'm offering you. Take them or leave them." The Viscount's expression had an ugly, supercilious edge to it. "And I'll make sure I tell Sendar," the use of the king's first name was deliberate, "of your failure to perform your duty."

"If that is your final word on the matter, milord?" Anyone who knew Kyminn would have recognized the warning in his tone.

"It is. And as to your 'room', as I believe you demanded? There are no rooms for you here. Stay in the village, or leave with your tail between your legs, I don't particularly care."

"I understand, my lord Viscount. I will return tomorrow to examine the horses then?"

"Examine them or not. Take them or not. I've provided animals for the levy. I expect you gone by the end of tomorrow."

The bow was precise, if with a mocking edge.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn's arrival the following morning was a mere punctuation to the chaos in the courtyard. Horses of every description, many of them high quality saddlebreds and hunters, thronged the yard. Grooms, footmen and assorted servants dashed about, trying to capture animals who clearly had no interest in participating. Even bribes of grain were failing. Kyminn had spent a very busy evening coaxing horses into leaping fences and having cats, dogs, and the like open latches and gates. His time spent tracking down milord's 'missing' animals meant that retrieving them had been simple, if tiring. He buried a yawn – and a grin – and dismounted beside Lord Corbie.

The man turned on Kyminn with a snarl and for a moment, Kyminn thought the man would actually strike. Maybe it was the presence of witnesses, or the fear of how a Healer could retaliate, but the blow never landed. The man was panting from having spent the past candlemark screaming directions at the grooms.

"YOU!" The count was nearly foaming, his lips spraying spittle in his rage.

"Milord Viscount." Kyminn's tone was bland. "You seem to have acquired a number of horses. Interesting."

The noble choked, his jaw working. Finally, a sly smile appeared on his face. "I have not. I regret I can offer none of these to the levy. Few of these are mine."

"I see." Kyminn looked the horses over as though he had never seen them before. In one sense, that was true. "Are they all strays then?" He let his voice perk up. Strays meant that Kyminn could claim the animal and not have to pay an owner for them.

Lord Corbie seethed at the idea that Kyminn would get any of these valuable animals without paying for them. "No. None of them are strays. But none of them belong to me. They all belong to my landsmen. I can't offer them for the levy."

"Milord," Kyminn's voice was mild. "I believe there may have been a misunderstanding as to the terms of the levy."

"There's been no misunderstanding. I'm aware of the terms. Of these," Corbie's gesture took in the milling crowd of beasts, "the only ones I claim are the blooded stallions, the gravid mares and those animals less than three years old. Those are not subject to the levy. The king can't require me to provide animals that I don't have."

"Actually, milord, the terms are quite different." Kyminn withdrew the Royal Warrant. "You are requested and required to provide eleven animals suitable for heavy cavalry. These animals must be between the ages of five and twelve years…" Kyminn proceeded to read the details in a droning, carrying voice. The viscount shut him off as he began on the second group, 'nine light cavalry animals'.

"Yes, milord?" Kyminn's voice was polite. "Did I miss something?"

"I know what the levy says, and I'm telling you, I don't have the animals." The viscount was smug now.

"Milord, the Royal Warrant does not specify that the animals must be from your personal stock, simply that they must be provided by your estate. Whether those come from your stables, your tenant's farms or because you arranged for them from some horse faire is irrelevant. The crown has levied you twenty-nine animals."

"I cannot give you animals that don't belong to me." The viscount's voice was falsely sorrowful.

"Of course not. You could, perhaps, purchase them from your tenants for the levy?" Kyminn's cheerful suggestion rang equally hollow.

"Alas, I am not able to do so at this time. The war has limited my finances." A sad shrug.

"Happily, milord, the king has made provision for such a circumstance." Kyminn beamed. "Although it was hoped that men such as yourself would have had the means and opportunity to gather the required animals, the king understands that some are not as capable as others." A headshake of sorrow as the Viscount went rigid with anger at the implied insult.

"Milord, I am empowered to purchase the animals directly from the tenants in such cases." A bland smile. "Since removing a valuable asset such as a working animal poses such a hardship to a small farmer, I am empowered to pay twice the going rate for such animals."

Corbie gaped.

"Of course, that isn't taxable income, since it's a hardship payment. It'll be recorded with both the circuit Herald and the exchequer. That way you won't be able to mistake it for income and inadvertently overtax the tenant." A head shake of warning.

His face darkened with rage and the Viscount's fists clenched.

"And, given that you, personally, were levied to provide the animals but were unable to do so, the full amount paid to the farmer will be added to your personal taxes. Not the estates, yours." Kyminn's eyes glittered as he slid the verbal blade in. "Now, milord, I'm going to select the animals for the crown. I request your steward provide a list of their 'owners' by the time I'm done."

By the time Kyminn returned to Lord Corbie's study, the twenty-nine selected animals were gathered in a corner of the courtyard. Kyminn's two horses and the dogs acted as powerful deterrents to anyone who attempted to interfered.

"Milord, I have the list." Kyminn set the document down on the Viscount's desk. The Viscount was in a frothing fury, but was containing himself.

"I have met with my steward. It seems that most of these animals were recently transferred back into my ownership." Lord Corbie was not about to let his small holders profit at his own expense. Given a choice, he'd gouge the crown for every copper he could.

"Transferred, Milord?" Corbie had yet to figure out that when Kyminn used _that_ tone, there was a trap somewhere.

Eyes narrowed. 'Transferred' implied that the animals had not been paid for. In that case, Kyminn might yet insist on paying the tenant. 'Purchased' set a price for the animal, and therefore a value. "Purchased. My steward is retrieving the purchase records now."

'Writing, more likely, and at a grossly inflated price too I'll bet', Kyminn thought. "Well, Milord, that's certainly good news for your tenants. I'll have to check your income ledger to make sure the payment's been properly transferred of course, before I can go ahead and buy the animal. And, naturally, it's still a hardship payment so your tenants won't be taxed. The good news is that since you own the animals, there won't be a tax penalty. A good situation all round, don't you agree?"

Corbie hesitated just long enough to confirm Kyminn's suspicions that the viscount had had no intention of actually _paying_ the tenants for 'their' horses. Given the choice between paying his tenants an inflated amount or having his own taxes increased by _twice_ the horse's value, the former was – marginally – easier to swallow. "Of course. The ledger will be ready when the other documents are."

"I'll expect them then. My lordship indicated you wanted this concluded today. When can I expect them to be ready?" Kyminn wasn't going to give Lord Corbie an extra time to inflate their value, or have mysterious 'accidents' befall the horses.

"In fact, I'll just wait here, shall I?" Kyminn showed no sign of moving. "By the way, milord, as you are aware, part of the levy includes up to a fortnight spent in preparing the animals for military service. I was wondering what facilities you were going to make available?"

"Facilities? You'll get NOTHING! NOTHING, do you hear me? You are not going to prance about my stables with the animals you've stolen from me! By the Three you'll not! You'll take them and begone. Today!"

A faint shrug. "As milord says."

Corbie stormed out, leaving Kyminn to enjoy the warmth of the study.

Lord Corbie had clearly left in order to harangue his poor steward. He was almost physically dragging the man when he returned. The steward was gabbling, frantically waving on a document to dry the ink even as Corbie threw the ledger down in front of Kyminn. "There!"

Kyminn carefully examined the ledger, taking his time over each entry while Corbie fumed. With deliberate care, Kyminn drew parchment from his bag and began copying the information.

"What are you doing?" It was a hiss.

"Milord, I'm required to verify the value of each animal. As each was sold so recently, I must justify to the exchequer the amounts that I am remitting. I do this to prove the market value of each beast." And, he didn't add, prevent you from 'losing' this record of payment to your tenants.

As Corbie seethed, Kyminn carefully initialed each record in the viscount's ledger and incised his sigil as a witness to the transaction, making it doubly difficult to alter the records. Small comfort to Corbie was the fact that Kyminn showed no objection to the inflated prices.

"And now, Milord, I'll prepare the documents for transfer from yourself to the crown. Fortunately, I've done it enough times that I've got to the forms prepared. It's really just a matter of filling in the blanks." Kyminn quickly and neatly began to transfer the information to the sale form.

"What do you think you're doing? That gelding is worth 500 crowns. You've recorded a value of 350."

"Yes, milord. Unfortunately, you overpaid for the beast, although not by much. I have extensive accounts showing actual market value. Pity, as I would have been happy to advise you, had you asked." Kyminn's tone was bland.

"More importantly though, is that you have stated you have no facilities available to train this animal. That means I must pay for additional food, transport, boarding and labour costs to make up the gap. Plus fines, of course." Calm. Wary.

"Fines?" The hand drew back and aimed a stinging slap at the Healer's face.

The blow never landed. Kyminn had seen it coming and evaded it easily. "Fines, milord. Assault, for one. Followed by various charges for failing to provide the required animals on request, failing to provide support…the list is extensive."

"You miserable little wog!" Corbie screamed. "I'll have you flogged for that!"

"No, Lord Corbie, you won't." Kyminn met him, snarl for snarl. "You won't because if you do, I'll have you charged with assault. And theft. And fraud. Mismanagement. Failure to comply with a Royal Warrant. And that's just for starters. You'll be lucky if they strip you of your title. You know that contract you have with the guard? The one to provide grain transport to the front? That's up for renewal, isn't it? That needs the King's approval. So does your proposed merger with Magnus Wheelworks, the one that gives you a monopoly market in the areas west of Haven. Lay one hand on me, interfere with me or balk at anything I give you and I will recommend you never see a crown contract again. Milord."

Kyminn actually feared for Corbie's heart. He'd never seen a human being so toweringly furious. The silence was brittle as Kyminn, slowly, calmly bent back to the records. He stamped his sigil on both copies, and stood over Lord Corbie as the man silently signed and sealed the crown's copy. If he signed the other or not, Kyminn didn't care.

"Get out." It was a harsh, dark whisper. "Get out and never set foot on my grounds again."

"Happily." So great was Kyminn's disgust he intentionally omitted both honorific and bow.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Was it still only midafternoon? Kyminn was sure he'd spent at least three days doing battle with Lord Corbie. He shifted his feet on the front flagstones, the heavy door shut pointedly behind him. Across the yard, thirty-one horses and three dogs regarded him, silently asking what he planned to do next.

The grooms and servants, shortly so much in evidence, had vanished even more quickly than Corbie's good will. He considered pounding on the door – ideally with his sword – and demanding the assistance to which the Royal Warrant said he was entitled. The thought made his head hurt even more than it did already. Between a night of fetching horses and a day spent doing verbal battle, he was thoroughly wrung out.

The horses were by no means yet a 'herd', having been brought together from various pastures and stables. While they had yet to sort out their own pecking order, there were, nonetheless, one or two boss mares who stood out amongst the mob. It was these dominant females to whom Kyminn reached out, having the mares chivvy the other animals into a more-or-less cohesive rabble. With Vik and the mares to lead the mob, and the dogs to apply pressure from the sides and rear, Kyminn took up station at the tail end, trying to keep a gentle mental tether on as many beasts as possible.

There were too many, of course, for one man to 'hold' at once. All he could do was shift from beast to beast, nudging, suggesting, pushing. Had he any attention left to do so, he would probably have spent it praying that nothing happened to spook one of the beasts.

A trip that normally would have taken a half-candlemark took three times that long, but they made it without incident. The paddock at the inn was far too small to hold so many beasts for any length of time, but it would do for the moment while he tried to figure out his next move.

The inn's stable-hand's expression as he regarded the milling mob was equal parts awestruck and appalled.

"Master Healer, we hasn't room for all of them! And these be Lord Corbie's fine beasts, be they not? We canna keep them here!"

"I know, Slev. First off, don't worry about Lord Corbie. Each of these beasts belongs to the king now, bought, paid for and with the Lord's on seal on it. So never fear." A gusty sigh. "As to where we're going to put them…tell you what. I'd like you and master Loowis to put your heads together on this. I imagine you two know everyone here in town, including anyone who might have a spare stall, shed or spot in their cow byre. You two see what you can come up with and I'll be in shortly, alright?

Still protesting weakly, and looking askance at the Healer, the stableman left to confer with the innkeeper. As soon as the inn door had closed behind the befuddled man, Kyminn led his horses into the inn's little stable. He untacked them with his own hands, digging through the packs for a particular satchel.

As it emerged, he became the center of the dogs' undivided attention. They knew this bag. It contained the chunks of frozen horsemeat and other bits which formed the dogs' food while on the road. While they were quite happy to have been eating the innkeeper's leftovers for the past few days, they weren't fussy. Frozen horsemeat was just fine as far as they were concerned.

Kyminn's concern though, wasn't the gobbets of rock-hard meat, although he did toss a chunk to each dog as a reward for a job well done. Kyminn's interest was in the double stitched seam on the bottom of the satchel. He carefully picked apart one end, shaking and working out the gold and silver coins secreted there.

It wasn't an ideal system of course. Had anyone made a serious attempt at thievery, they would have slashed apart every bit of Kyminn's gear in search of just such a hoard. In such a case, Kyminn would probably be far too dead to worry about it. Generally, the gore and mess of the frozen meat served as enough of a deterrent to the casual pilferer. The dogs' protectiveness over the satchel could be attributed to normal food guarding behaviour, rather than their extremely explicit instructions to protect that particular bag.

There had been one notable incident though, where the seam had worked loose, spilling some of the coins into the meat mixture. The cold metal coins had frozen firmly to the sticky meat. Kyminn hadn't noticed until a glint of something in the firelight caused him to take a second look – right about the time the chunk disappeared down Bull's gullet.

Retrieving the coins had been simple, if not for the squeamish. As Kyminn pointed out acidly to his rather confused dogs, they were probably the only animals in Valdemar who actually crapped gold. The coins had been scrubbed with soap and water – several times – before being immersed in the strongest cleansing solution that Kyminn could brew. In hindsight, he should have set them aside from the others. He'd have used them to pay Lord Corbie.

Enough woolgathering. Kyminn carefully counted out the coins he needed and retied the seam. With a final little treat to the dogs, he left them happily gnawing on their snacks.

The innkeeper and stableman were in the back of the kitchen, deep in animated conversation. They stopped though, when Kyminn tapped on the door.

"Well, gentlemen? Have you any suggestions for me?" Kyminn eased himself wearily onto a seat at the bar.

"Master Healer…" the innkeeper began, the stableman having declined to speak, "It's possible we can find places for most of the beasts, but…it'll be dear. Feed's scarce this time of year and none of these folks were expecting to board someone else's horses."

"I see." Kyminn kept his expression somber. "Just how dear do you expect it might be?"

The two men exchanged glances and Kyminn could tell they were trying to figure how much they should ask for. "Well sir," the innkeeper said carefully, "Right now you're paying three coppers a day for feed and two for board. Per beast. Now, I've got the stalls, and the feed set by, so I can charge you the road rate. Other folks…well…it'd cause crowding, and as I said, they'd have to buy the feed…and the price will be high…I think we can find places for about twenty horses, but the price for each would be at least six coppers a day board and six for food." The man looked as though he expected Kyminn to fly into a rage. With Corbie as his landowner, the man's caution wasn't surprising.

"I see. And that's for only twenty beasts. Well, that's a problem. You see, I have twenty-nine. Plus my own, of course. I'd expect that you'd want to see the same price yourself, since any animals I place with you will have to pay the higher feed bills…" They wouldn't, of course. The innkeeper had his own stores for the few travelers he expected over the winter season. He'd probably sell some of that to his neighbours, at a tidy profit, naturally.

Kyminn carefully put a silver crown on the bar. Worth twenty coppers, the coin represented food and board for nearly two horses – at the inflated rate. Kyminn gradually began laying coins on the counter as he continued to speak.

"Do you suppose," he said, laying down the twelfth coin, "That people might be inspired to find a bit more room if we were to offer them a bit more?" Fifteen coins.

The innkeeper tried very hard not to look at the coins. "Well, sir, they might. For the right price."

"I see." Kyminn laid down the twentieth coin. For what he was offering, he knew some folks would bring horses into their parlors if they could.

"Well then. Would you and master Slev here be willing to arrange this for me?" Thirty-one silver coins now, one for each horse. "Board, food – good quality hay and grain mind, no straw or leavings!" More silver, this time in two small piles. Five coins each, one for the innkeeper and one for the stableman. "For tonight and tomorrow night. I may depart before then, but I'll pay the second night regardless." He finally looked up from the bar.

"Well gentlemen? Do we have a deal?"

Happened that they did. The next few weary candlemarks were spent moving horses. Stables, cow byres, woodsheds – even an abandoned chicken coop. Any place sound and weather tight with a clean floor and fresh straw. Once word got around that the Healer was checking each and every stall, water bucket and food bin, those that might have tried to slip in substandard fodder gave up the idea. The dogs padded along, ostentatiously sniffing each barn, farmer and bit of hay and grain. Again, this was theatre – there was little likelihood of them finding anything untoward, but the idea that the dogs _could_ was intimidating enough. If a little of mystical dazzle worked for Companions, he wasn't above borrowing the technique.

Exhausted, but grimly satisfied, Kyminn ate without tasting and crawled into bed. Tomorrow was another problem.

As it turned out, he did board the horses for two nights. In the intervening day, he again prevailed on the innkeeper for information. This time, it was to find four people who knew one side of a saddle from the other, along with a cart and driver. It was less than a day's travel to the nearest Guard station, but between the inexperienced help and the disorderly mob of horses, it took a full day and well into the evening before they shambled up to the station gate. The horses were profoundly unhappy at being asked to travel in the dark and it took all of Kyminn's attention to keep them moving forward. Along about noon it started to snow, cold, fat flakes and a chill that bit to the bone. As he tried to unclench his numb hands from the reins, Kyminn was viciously certain that he hadn't charged Lord Corbie _nearly_ enough.


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N Still on hiatus, but happy to have access to a keyboard, however briefly. An advisory note for the coming year - Happily, I have managed to secure full time employment. It means though, that my real-world labours leave me far fewer hours to spend in Velgarth. It is my hope to maintain a schedule of one chapter a week, but it remains to be seen if this is feasible._

Chapter 30

At the insistence of the post's Healer, Kyminn slept through the next three days of chaos as the horses were settled in and the temporary grooms sent back to their village. Stress, Gift fatigue, hypothermia and frostbite landed him quite firmly on bed rest. It also meant he missed all the excitement when the dogs caught three men sneaking into the stables.

Although the men averred they had been "sent to take care of" the horses, the poison they carried told a very different story. The Healer confirmed that the flasks contained more than enough of the toxin to sicken or kill every horse in the camp. By the time Kyminn awoke enough to hear the tale, the men were in custody awaiting questioning by Herald Tarva. Unfortunately, it was unlikely in the extreme they knew which hand had originally held the purse. There would be an investigation, but whether it was Corbie, the Tedrels or someone else yet again might never been known.

Awake and mostly Healed, Kyminn paused only long enough to write a detailed account of the events surrounding his time with Lord Corbie. This he sealed and entrusted to the care of the post commander. The commander, already incensed by the manner of Kyminn's arrival and the attempted poisoning, vowed to put it in the Herald's hand himself. That done, Kyminn turned his attention back to training. He'd given Lord Corbie more than enough of his time.

"Hold the line! Pivot on the hind! The horse knows what he's doing! Listen to the signal dammit!" Kyminn's voice was hoarse from bellowing instructions on the training ground. He was mud-splattered from head to toe and been knocked into the filthy slush more than once.

"Rider coming!" The sentry's hail caused a few heads to turn, but discipline kept everyone at their work. "Herald incoming!" The amended report caused a greater stir, but not much. Men moved briskly to open the gate while others prepared a stall for the Companion. Kyminn kept working. His matter was just one of the Herald's many concerns. He would be fit into the schedule in good time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white disappear into the headquarters building.

"Excuse me Healer Kyminn." The Guardsman's firm interruption broke Kyminn's concentration. "Healer, the Herald and the Commandant would like to see you at your earliest convenience."

Nonplussed, Kyminn glanced down at his thoroughly filthy clothing. "I'll be in as soon as I clean up and change."

"Healer, there will be a basin and a clean tunic waiting for you. I'm given to understand that 'at your earliest convenience' meant 'as soon as possible.'"

"Oh. I see." True to the messenger's prediction, a basin of warm water allowed him to wipe the worst of the mud from his face and hands and a tunic let at least the top half of him be cleanish. He brushed what he could from his trousers and boots with little success. Patting his soaking wet seat, he resolved to avoid sitting on anything with fabric. He was still vainly brushing at splatter when he was shown into the post commander's office.

As the door swung open, the conversation within stopped abruptly, the Captain and Herald turning to regard him.

"Kyminn." Tarva seemed tired and strained.

"Herald Tarva?" alarm rose in Kyminn's face as he took in her expression.

She must have seen his concern for she shook her head slightly and one corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a small smile. "How soon can you be ready to travel?"

The question took him completely by surprise and he had to fumble to come up with a response. "At least a candlemark to get the gear assembled and supplies arranged. The horses worked all day so they won't be at their best, but they'll go."

"Too long. We'll leave in a quarter candlemark. The horses and dogs can follow after. Captain?"

The commander nodded. "I can arrange that. I'll have the time to make sure they're well provisioned." He seemed unperturbed by the prospect. "Where will you take him?"

Tarva shook her head. "Better you don't know. Then you can answer honestly." She looked thoughtful. "You know that lightening killed elm where the creek branches?"

"I do." An affirmative nod.

Tarva simply smiled and said "Good."

The Captain was clearly quick on the uptake, for his wry smile was a match for hers.

"Excuse me," Kyminn was still trying to understand what was happening, "Before I run off to pack, will you be telling me why I'm going wherever it is I'm going?" He tried to keep the plaintive note out of his voice.

Tarva sighed with grim disgust, but her ire was not directed at Kyminn. "It seems Lord Corbie is on his way here with a squad of his household troops. He is going to demand your arrest."

Kyminn's mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged.

"He is claiming you cheated him. He proposes to take you into custody while the matter is 'investigated'." It was dry.

"He _WHAT_?" Aghast. "He's marching on a Guard Post? How in the world does he think this is going to end?"

"With you in his gaol while his pet magistrate investigates. Technically, he has the right to do so. The alleged crime happened on his lands and although this guard post is controlled by the crown, the surrounding lands still fall within his borders. Between that, the Royal Warrant and the fact you work for the Healers Circle, well…jurisdiction is tangled enough that he could tie you down until spring."

"Thereby neatly putting an end to the levy in this area." Only the courtesy owed a Herald kept Kyminn from cursing pungently.

"In addition, Lord Corbie has enough allies at court that he could demand access to all your Collegium and military records. From what Talamir said, I gather you would rather this didn't happen." Her expression invited him to explain.

Kyminn thought back to Warford and what Lord Corbie would make of allegations of treason. "Herald Tarva, I believe I would be correct in saying that the Lord Marshall, the Heraldic Circle, Healer's _and the crown_ would rather such an investigation didn't happen." It was fervent.

He wasn't sure if the Herald was appalled or impressed. The captain's face and eyebrows were a study in frustrated curiosity, but his jaw stayed clamped shut.

"I thought as much. Which is why I believe it's in the crown's best interest if the object of the search is a very long way away. Aelish and I are going to get you out of here. Everything else will follow along. By the time Lord Corbie and his band of idiots gets here, there will be nothing for him to see. That will give me some time to address the matter without any…complicating distractions."

"Herald Tarva, I'm so sorry…"

"Not to worry Kyminn. No one blames you for this. We knew the levy would cause problems. As a matter of fact, it's actually gone better than we expected." She glanced at the Captain. "Do you need anything else for now?"

"No thank you Herald. Anything I have for you can wait until your return." He gave a respectful nod, adding, "If you have nothing else for me, I'll start making arrangements." At Tarva's headshake, he left his office to the Herald and Healer.

"Thank you for this, Herald Tarva. And Aelish too. If the rest of all this can wait, I should throw some things together. I should change too, before I freeze to the saddle."

A wave was all it took and he bolted to his quarters. Long practice meant he seldom truly unpacked and he was tying his muddy clothes to the side straps as he headed back out to the front yard.

Tarva and Aelish were already waiting. As he swung up behind the Herald for only his second time being borne by a Companion, he reflected that at least this time he'd remember the experience.

As soon as he was settled, Aelish took off with a bound. He'd seen it happen often enough that he was expecting it, but the force of it still snapped him back and had him clutching at Tarva for balance. From the reproachful "Chosen!" he overheard, Aelish clearly had the usual Companion sense of humour.

As they dashed through the gate, Kyminn belatedly remembered to reassure the dogs and instruct them to obey the stable master. He'd been overseeing their care and hopefully it would occur to someone to have him continue.

"I know you weren't able to tell the Captain, but am I allowed to know where we're going?" He had to put his mouth beside Tarva's ear to make himself heard.

"There's a waystation just up the road a bit, but it's still within Lord Corbie's borders. After we drop off the message, we'll cut cross country. There's another waystation about six candlemarks away if we go directly there. It's three days by road, so you'll be waiting there a bit for the rest to catch up!"

The wind of their passage whipped her words away, so Kyminn simply nodded and crouched down behind her, concentrating on keeping himself balanced to the Companion's blistering gallop.

It was easy to see why the Herald had pointed out this tree to the Captain. It had once been a magnificent example of the species, positioned perfectly at the point where the creek divided. At some point in the past, it had been struck by lightning, leaving a splintered dark trunk like a finger, pointing further down the track.

As Aelish slowed to a stop, Kyminn thumped the Herald's shoulder to get her attention. "Hold on." He pointed to the trackless snow leading down the bank. "If we go down there, someone is bound to wonder why someone walked up to the tree and then turned back."

"Don't worry." The Herald gave an ironic smile and withdrew a sealed message from her pocket. Holding it on her outstretched palm, she looked at it with a faint look of concentration. The message abruptly vanished and a puff of snow burst from the hollow trunk, crystals glinting in the sunlight.

A grin of delight broke across Kyminn's face. "You have the Fetching gift!" Something occurred to him then. "What will the Guard think when they find a message there and no tracks?"

"That Heralds work in mysterious ways." It was a chuckle. "Just out of curiosity, what would your solution have been?"

"I was going to call a bird," Kyminn admitted.

He felt more than saw her nod. "That would have worked. It's been my experience that most problems have more than one solution. Ready?"

He barely had time to nod before Aelish surged off. This time he was more prepared and only wobbled a little bit.

If he'd thought the previous journey down the road had been a challenge, the cross-country one proved entirely hair raising. The Companion threaded her way through trees and across obstacles with uncanny, sure footed precision. He tried peering over Tarva's shoulder to see where they were going and react accordingly, but to no avail. In the end, the only option was to crouch down and balance as best he could.

It was well past dark when Aelish emerged into the waystation clearing. With a muffled grunt, Kyminn unlocked stiff muscles and slid down from the Companion. He turned back to help with the tack but Tarva shook her head. She pulled a sachet and fire-starter from an outside pocket. "Light this and toss it inside. It will clear out any vermin."

He nodded and did as instructed. While the smoke did its work, he found the well and broke the ice, drawing water for Aelish. By the time that had been taken care of, Tarva had begun moving their gear into the waystation. He followed with another bucket of water for their use.

He'd never been in a waystation before, but life on the road had its own immutable fundamentals. Aelish's needs came first, then fire, food and so on. With a speed which would have surprised him three years ago, they were shortly warm and comfortable while a stew bubbled on the stove.

As he stirred to prevent their dinner from scorching, Kyminn finally had a moment to ask his questions. "So what happens next?"

"Aelish and I will leave in the morning. You wait here until the rest of your things arrive. This waystation is only a day's travel from your next scheduled stop, so you're actually about nine days ahead of schedule. I suggest you use some of that time to rest, but there's no reason you can't move up a few days."

Kyminn nodded. The prospect of simply doing nothing rang oddly to his ears and was curiously disquieting.

 _SCENE BREAK_

With the Herald gone, Kyminn found himself at loose ends. He cleaned the waystation until it was immaculate, cleared snow from all the pathways, cut and restocked all the firewood. That still left him with candlemarks on his hands. Laundry and mending took care of some of it, but not all. Finally left with no work to do, he dug out his pouch of paper and writing tools.

The coming spring would mark three years since he had left Oakden and had last seen any member of his family. Letters had been sparse, given how much time he had spent on the road. Once, during that first year, a package had arrived at Healer's with a Midwinter gift. He'd sent his own package as well, but it wasn't until nearly mid-summer that he received word they had arrived safely. In the intervening years, one of his brothers had gotten betrothed (Kyminn had sent a wedding gift) and another had completed his apprenticeship as a cabinet maker. His youngest brother had announced an intention to become a luthier, of all things. Kyminn wondered how that had turned out.

Writing home was always difficult. His mother was no frail flower, being an experienced Healer in her own right. Still, he had avoided writing during the fighting. Not only because he was far too busy, but because all his news seemed to end with "and then he died." Life on the road offered little fodder for news, so those letters tended to consist of descriptions of the weather, the scenery and the dogs' antics.

Prudence and a reluctance to draw his family into political squabbles kept him from discussing the levy or the personalities he encountered. The last thing he needed was a letter with ill-considered words ending up some place that it shouldn't. With a sigh, he picked up the graphite stick and began to write. It helped when he remembered he hadn't explained about the new dog, and describing the circumstances around her arrival took up a whole page. Explaining her name "Thunderbrook's Summer Dawn Marigold" took up nearly another. Somehow, her kennel name had been shortened to 'Daisy', a completely unsuitable moniker. Unsure of how to address the animal, Kyminn had taken to simply calling her "You scruffy thing". In time, this became 'Scruff' until one day he realized he'd been calling her 'Raff' for quite some time now. So Raff she became.

Talking about Raff led him to talking about his visit with Eiven and Cydris. He was startled when he realized that he'd spent more than two pages talking about Cydris and her work with the search dogs. Worried his mother might read something into his writing so much about a woman, Kyminn made sure to add just as much about Eiven, even though that part came much harder. As he closed off the letter, he reflected how much easier life would be when he was able to get on the road again.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The remainder of the levy finished without incident. Whether it was Kyminn's preparations or because word had got out, there was surprisingly little resistance to the requests. In the one instance where Kyminn expected difficulty on a level of Lord Corbie, Kyminn came prepared. He spent several days beforehand scouting the lands of the Duke in question and compiling his list. In addition to the list, he arrived with a half-dozen Guardsmen to 'help manage the horses during the transfer'. Kyminn simply handed over the Warrant and the list, saying "These are the animals I am going to review for the levy. I think you'll find the list contains all the information you need to produce the animals. Including notes on where each one is currently located."

Faced with such precise information and armed Guardsmen, the Duke yielded. As a nod to the Duke's (belated) cooperation, Kyminn refrained from administering the punitive fines he'd visited on Lord Corbie. He did, however, take pains to point out that 'other noted persons' who had been less than cooperative were now being audited by the crown. Already enough irregularities had come to light that the viscount in question had had his assets frozen and control of his accounts turned over to crown management. The chronic under-reporting of revenue was already expected to result in forfeiture of some properties. In addition, the viscount had been ordered to turn over the majority of his bloodstock to the levy. The lord would be permitted to retain two stallions and a dozen blooded mares. The remainder would be seized as penalty for interfering with the Royal Warrant. Corbie would, however, be entitled to as many draft and dray animals as he could afford, for the sake of his landowners.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Spring found him once again on the southern front. This year, the crown had drawn on more Healers than the year before. His standing as a returning veteran gave Kyminn a little say in his work assignment and he found himself once again working with Eiven and Tysen. He was disappointed to learn that Cydris would not be joining them. Healer circuits had been adjusted so fewer Healers could cover more ground and as a result, Cydris had been sent to the north-east, where she and two other Healers would cover the area once covered by five. As part of the plan to ensure all Valdemar's citizens had the care they needed, Cydris would be offering the same basic skills training she'd developed the year before. Like so many, they would have to make do with less.

Sadly, the grim reality of war seldom offers change. The Tedrels pushed across the border and dug in. Valdemar struck and bled, trying to push them back. Men and women left their tents whole and hale, only to return torn and broken. War has a grim stench to it, made up of equal parts blood, mud, sweat, rot and bodily effluvia. Underneath it all, clinging to one's skin like an oily film was a foul, charnel smell that no amount of cleansing seemed to remove. Kyminn almost grew glad of porridge, for its very blandness seemed to be the only food that didn't taste of death.

As winter set her teeth into the countryside once more, the Tedrels withdrew into their hills, leaving the army to turn their faces back to home. Kyminn wearily turned with them, another levy list and Royal Warrant a weight in his pack. Saying goodbye to his friends was harder this time, although they'd all gotten good at farewells by now. When they parted, no one looked back.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Whether it was experience or impatience with small-minded nobles, this winter Kyminn brooked no interference with the levy. Although he was ever mindful of the respect due a lordly station, he had no time for deception or obfuscation. That there were simply fewer beasts to be had meant only that the landowners protested that much the louder when Kyminn extracted the crown's due. He was as fair in pricing as he could possibly be, but gold doesn't plow a field if there are no horses to available to purchase. He always looked ahead now and prepared his list, and now he travelled with a squad of Guard. The widely publicized penalties assessed to Lord Corbie put a final spike in any protest. In addition to the loss of his bloodstock, Lord Corbie would have his accounts managed by the crown for the next three years. In that time, the Viscount would be barred from sitting on the Council and all expenses – including personal expenses – had to approved by the crown manager. The scale of penalties assessed for back taxes as well as lands forfeited had stunned the nobility. Short of total forfeiture of lands and titles for treason, there was no precedent for such an extreme royal admonishment. The message was clear: the King's will in matters of military necessity was absolute and inviolate. Interfere at your peril.

When Kyminn turned in his final set of animals, his warhorse Max was among the group. A trained animal was too precious to be held back for the use of a single healer. The Guard captain argued at first, demanding Kyminn turn over Vik as well. Only the liberal use of Talamir's name served to keep one horse in Kyminn's hands. Vik was a scout animal, not suitable for the cavalry. He was, however, experienced at training other horses and as such, more valuable to Kyminn than the Guard.

That third summer, the Tedrels struck early, driving deeper into Valdemar than ever before. They had spent the winter fortifying their base in Karse and it served as an anchor to drive a deep wedge through the southern lands. There was an air of desperation in the Valdemaran counterattacks this time as they tried to break the Tedrel defenses. The first fortnight of the campaign was a chaotic swirl of treating patients wherever they lay: in wagons, under a scrap of canvas, even under the spring stars. Once again Kyminn was grateful for the heat of canine bodies and more than once he'd found a fellow Healer or other stranger taking equal advantage of the warmth.

The spokes of the wagon wheel dug into his back, but Kyminn ignored the discomfort. They still didn't have their tents unpacked and he considered himself lucky to have found a spot under a wagon. Wedged up against the wheel as he was, it wasn't a place suitable for a patient so he didn't feel as though he'd taken a spot someone needed more. A series of snores echoed around him in the dawn light and he shook his head. No one had warned him just how loudly a mastiff could snore, and Tip and Bull seemed to be champions of the art. Raff, not to be outdone, liked to yelp and chase rabbits in her sleep, a disconcerting habit at the best of times.

Propping himself one elbow, he surveyed the tangle of limbs and tried to figure out how best to extricate himself without injury to man or beast. Blankets in the mix told him others had found his furry furnaces yet again. Out on the edge of the tangle, a huddled heap of green snuggled up against Raff, shivering slightly in the morning chill.

"Hey. Wake up. Let's get you warm." Kyminn shook the shoulder gently.

Battlefield Healers don't wake up gently. A shake to the shoulder means either 'It's time for your shift', 'Someone is bleeding' or 'We're under attack'. In any case, the appropriate response is to go from 'unconscious' to 'run like hell' in a fraction of a second.

"What?" Tousled auburn curls over dark brown eyes, hand on the belt knife in anticipation of defense.

"Cydris!" Kyminn couldn't have explained why seeing her made him so happy. Heedless of the dog and sleeping person that separated them, he threw himself at her in a massive hug.

The next few minutes were a cacophony of yelps, grunts, curses and complaints as the rudely awakened tried to free themselves from the tangle. If the sight of two Healers grinning and hugging each other left the sleepers even more confused, no one commented. One grizzled porter simply sniffed, wrapped his blanket around himself and pointedly snuggled up next to Tip once again. The other sleepers followed his example.

"Cydris! I didn't know you were here! When did you get in?" Kyminn pulled off his own cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn't bother to object.

"Yesterday morning. Support elements are still trickling in. Most of us came by road with the column, but Heralds brought us Healers the last little way." She rubbed her rump in memory.

He shared a rueful smile of understanding. "Yes, being borne Companion-back is definitely a memorable experience." He glanced around at the other sleepers, some of whom were snoring very emphatically. "Let's go get some breakfast. I think we've worn out our welcome here."

She smothered a chuckle and nodded. "What about them?" She looked at the dogs, then back at Kyminn, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Should we take the dogs with us?" She made no attempt to keep her voice down.

"Please don't!" It was a plaintive wail from somewhere in the pile of blankets. "Please leave us the dogs, just for a bit!"

Kyminn reached out. The dogs were perfectly happy to remain behind. After all, they benefited from the arrangement just as much as the humans. Together, he and Cydris scrambled out from under the wagon, leaving the remainder to steal a few more precious moments of rest.

Kyminn steered Cydris to a cook-wagon, hastily erected to serve the needs of the injured and their caretakers. He filled two mugs with tea and added a generous splash of honey to hers.

"You remembered?" her eyebrows raised as she took a grateful gulp.

"We got tea for each other often enough," he said gruffly. "I remember Eiven and Tysen's too."

"Oh." Her face fell a bit. She looked around for a seat and spied some upended casks. "When did you get here?" She perched on one of the casks and wrapped herself around her tea.

"I came with the army," he admitted as he hopped up beside her. "Been since here since the beginning." He produced an apple from his pocket and handed it to her. "There's word they'll try to have the teams set up by tomorrow. I didn't know you were here or I'd have asked for you on my team. Eiven and Tysen are leading their own teams this year."

"So," she nibbled at the apple. "How have you been?"

Without his even noticing that it had happened, Kyminn found himself slipping easily back into old habits of talking things over with Cydris. She had a way of understanding what he'd meant to say when he found himself unable to articulate something. When he tried to explain the social and political complexities of the levy, she understood that he was trying to describe his own ambivalence with the necessity, but the undeniable hardship it caused.

He asked her about her posting in the north-east and shared her frustration at being asked to take on so much. The intent to teach basic Healing skills, while good in theory, had foundered on a lack of preparation and insufficient time to prepare the citizenry. Results had been mixed at best.

The bugle dragged them back to the present. The lines were forming. The bleeding would start soon.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"Easy there, lie back." Kyminn supported the injured scout as the man settled himself on the rolled pile of blankets. A Tedrel bowman had taken the scout's horse out from under him and the resulting fall had shattered the man's ribs – among other things.

"How bad is it Healer?" the young man's face was drawn with pain and worry. 'Am I going to die?' was almost always the first thing on every patient's mind. Worry, in its own way, was as deadly a poison as any wound fever.

"You were pretty badly hurt," Kyminn knew better than to lie to any patient, although he always held out hope even for the worst of cases. Fortunately, this was not one of those 'worst cases'. "You've broken several ribs and your innards were badly banged up." 'Banged up' was the layman's explanation for 'internal bleeding'. "You'll recover, but you're going to have to stay very still and quiet for a good while yet." Cydris had spent a considerable amount of time using her gift to seal the ruptured vessels and bind the man's ruptured spleen. He was stable, but his body would have to take over from here.

Grey eyes searched Kyminn's face, looking for deceit. Satisfied that his Healer was telling the truth about his survival, the scout nodded, expression easing. "Thank ye, Healer. Right glad to hear that."

A small smile. "Of course. One is always happy to learn that one is going to live. Drink this," Kyminn held the mug to the patient's lips. "You're going to be spending a good deal of the next while asleep my friend."

"That's not such a bad thing." A twinkle in the grey eyes.

Kyminn waited to make sure the man was asleep and properly propped up. Popping his cramped back, he looked for the next patient.

"Healer Kyminn?" Kyminn didn't recognize the fellow, but from his uniform, the man was one of this season's porters. "Healer, there's a company meeting been called. They've set up some new ward tents. It's in the rightmost one, in two candlemarks. The senior also says to tell you they've got a cook-tent up and you're off shift now."

Now _that_ was some of the best news Kyminn had heard in a while. His nose led him to the cook tent and judging from the menu, the supply wagons had finally arrived. The meat and potato pie was simple fare, but it had been made with fresh pork instead of salted and someone had tracked down some seasonings. He'd never be a gourmet, but he had developed an almost fanatic appreciation for decent food. The bread was heavy and dense, but it was well sifted and someone had mixed in lighter flour and a touch of honey. Small things, but they lifted his spirits just the same.

He even had enough time to indulge in a nearly-thorough standing bath in the men's bathing tent before the meeting started. He grimaced as he brushed out his wet hair. He'd have to either find someone to cut it or track down a tie-back, it was getting appallingly long.

"Good evening!" Kyminn was unsurprised to see the speaker was Captain Vessar. The Captain had retained her position on the Lord Marshall's staff and, like Kyminn, was in her third season of the campaign. The experience she had garnered the past two years had melded the Healer's Company into a highly effective team.

"I am Captain Vessar. I am a member of the Lord Marshall's staff and I am responsible for the Healing and Transport Companies." Kyminn listened with only half his attention. The first part was mostly for the newcomers and briefly outlined the role and function of the companies. Unlike the first year, there were many veterans who could show the newbies the ropes. Assuming Supply provided the ropes, that is.

"And now a word for you veteran Healers. Yes, you. Time to start listening." A few chuckles greeted this comment. Clearly, the Captain knew her audience.

"You will notice some very significant changes in the lists this year. After the success of last year's search and rescue teams, that program has been continued and expanded. During the winter, a specialized group of guardsmen, all volunteer veterans, were trained exclusively as dog handlers. Last season, the Healers doubled as handlers. This showed us just how useful the dogs were to getting our wounded off the battlefield, but wasn't the best use of the Healer's time. As soon as the dogs found someone, the Healer started treatment. That meant the dogs were idle for the duration, when they could have been saving more lives.

Instead, we gave the dogs their own, dedicated handlers. With the assistance of a pair of Animal Mindspeakers, the teams spent the winter building their skills. Having seen the demonstrations, I am very encouraged. As a result, every team will have at least one – and most will have two – dog handlers attached to the team. The exception to this is Team Nine." The Captain's voice grew dry.

"Team Nine will continue to have the Healer handle the dogs. According to the Dean of Healers, and I quote, 'There isn't a long enough pry bar anywhere in Valdemar that could separate Kyminn Danner from those dogs of his. It works, don't mess with it.'"

Kyminn reddened and buried his face in his hands while colleagues thumped his back and laughed. As if to highlight the Captain's point, Raff gave a soft 'woof' and rested her head on his knee. He blushed even redder.

Captain Vessar waited until the laughter had died down before continuing. "A final point." Her tone grew serious again. "You all know by now that winning a war isn't simply a matter of having the fiercest fighters or best tactics. An army without resources cannot win. Chiefest among those resources is people, both on the battle line and off of it. The cold truth though, is that we can afford to lose the land, but we can't afford to lose the people. For that reason, the Lord Marshall has received permission to increase our Healer resources by nearly half. Many of you know that last year's increase meant drawing Healers from other parts of the country and increasing the burden on those who remained."

Cydris nodded in unconscious agreement. She had been one of those Healers and, to Kyminn's eye, had not yet recovered from the demands it had placed on her. He squeezed her hand in understanding.

"Your Circle has taken a number of Healers out of retirement and asked them to serve those distant posts yet again. Temples, noble houses and any other likely locales have been tapped to provide the hands the crown requires. This includes the Collegium."

A ripple ran through the crowd. The first year of the war had seen Internships served at the front. The next season had seen more of the same, all of them students in their final year who had been rushed into their greens. Any seniors left would normally have at least a year remaining in their training.

"A few of the more strongly Gifted, and carefully selected, senior students have been asked to serve. Almost all agreed to do so. These Trainees – and yes, they are still Trainees, will be assigned a mentor for the duration." She scanned the crowd, her face sober. She looked as though she wanted to add something else, but simply shook her head. "Gods willing, this will be the last of this."

Kyminn tried to absorb the implications of the announcement. Unlike a Herald, who could not move into Whites until he or she had all the required lessons and experience, there was somewhat more flexibility for Healers. Much of the final year was spent in hands on work: assessing patients, applying knowledge and presenting a treatment plan. A war offered those things – literally – by the wagon-load. Granted, the Trainee's experience would consist almost exclusively of traumatic injuries, but there would be time later on for the student to learn things like afflictions of the aged, skin eruptions, midwifery and the like.

He hadn't noticed Cydris's departure until she returned, waving a copy of the assignment list. "I've got the list," she began to leaf through it, reading aloud as she did so. "Eiven has team two this year and it looks like they have two dogs and two trainees. Hmm. I recognize some of the other names in his group. Two of them are from the year after me. They're just out of their Internships. Not a lot of experience on his team."

Kyminn peered over his shoulder as she continued to flip pages. "Tysen…team four. One Trainee, two dogs. I don't recognize the other names."

Kyminn did. "Two of them are pretty senior, so they should do alright. It wouldn't surprise me if Tysen and Eiven try and arrange a few transfers. You're right, Eiven's team is likely to need a lot of support and Tysen has the experience to spare."

"Oh look! I'm on nine too!" Cydris was pleased. "And no, no extra dogs for us! Oh! My!" She pointed to annotations beside their names. "I've got a Trainee, and so do you. Avi Berdwell and Betra Purcell, I don't think I know them, do you?"

Kyminn shook his head. "Remember, I was only enrolled at Healers for a fairly short time. I didn't get to know a lot of people. Huh. Purcell. My grandmother was a Purcell. I wonder if we're related?"

"You'll have to ask her." Cydris read through the remainder of their team. "We don't have a team leader yet. I wonder why?"

"I'm just glad it wasn't me," Kyminn admitted frankly. "This is my third season and I keep worrying someone's going to decide I know stuff and give me more responsibility."

Cydris was about to reply when a clerk at her elbow interrupted her. "Excuse me Healer, if I could see that copy of the list, I've a few amendments to make." He held out a graphite stick meaningfully.

Cydris relinquished the list and watched as the clerk flipped through it rapidly, crossing things out and penciling in new annotations. She and Kyminn both nodded in approval to see that Tysen and Eiven's teams had already been adjusted. She watched with interest as the clerk crossed out the 'TBA' note on their own list and penciled in a name. A squeak of surprise slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Good grief!" Cydris blurted. "What on earth is _she_ doing here?"

"Serving the crown, same as you presumably," Healer Delassia's tart voice said from behind them.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Kyminn's jaw dropped as his mind paddled furiously to catch up. Why in the world was a Healer of Delassia's…particular skill set…here, at the front lines? By Delassia's own admission, it had been several years since she had focused on human care. Her very rarified expertise dealt exclusively with the unique needs of Companions.

It hadn't escaped Kyminn's notice that precisely zero Heralds or Companions had required the services of the Healers during the entire span of this conflict. Although far from being of a strategic bent, even Kyminn was able to deduce that the King and Lord Marshall were intentionally keeping the Heralds as far from Karse as possible. Smart money said that the King knew exactly how the Heralds would fare if captured and that he had better uses for them than letting them be turned into particularly gruesome forms of mincemeat.

That didn't mean they didn't see _any_ Heralds, of course. A ton or more of blinding white horse and a rider wearing an "oh shoot me now" uniform are rather hard to miss. Heraldic Gifts of Farseeing, Fetching, Firestarting, and the like had been much in evidence, but the Heralds themselves were generally accompanied by enough burly Guardsmen to ensure their safety. It occurred to Kyminn that it must be strange for the Heralds to have the boot on the other foot for once; to be the guarded instead of the guardian. He expected a lot of Companions were unusually cranky as a result.

Perhaps Delassia's presence marked a strategic shift and they would soon see more Heralds. He spoke without thinking, the words emerging as soon as his brain got around to forming the thought. "Are more Heralds coming?"

The look he received in return was pure Delassia – an inimitable mixture of baffled confusion and scorn at the obtuseness of the question. "Why on earth would you think I would know that?"

Clearly, some things never changed. Kyminn tried to shift tracks and recall the didactic precision so necessary in dealing with this particular Senior Healer. "Your pardon, Senior Delassia. Given your noted specialty," may as well throw in a little flattery, probably wouldn't hurt at this point, "it seemed reasonable to conclude you had been assigned here in support of the Companions. I'd also point out that we were assigned to the same team. As I also have an adequate degree of skill in treating Companions, the assignment seemed purposeful. Did you have information to the contrary?"

Cydris had strangled something into unintelligibility when Kyminn had described his skills as 'adequate'. Whether it was in defense of his skills or a warning not to inflate himself in front of the senior, he couldn't be sure. He simply gave her hand a warning squeeze.

A sniff, but there was a faint element of thaw in Delassia's response. "I cannot fault your logic for the most part, although I do challenge the assumption that _I_ would be privy to strategic information."

Privately, Kyminn doubted very much that the Heralds, Companions or Lord Marshall himself would withstand Healer Delassia if she felt she needed to know something relevant to her specialty, strategic or not. He simply gave a polite nod of acknowledgement.

"In point of fact," and Delassia sounded distinctly disgruntled, although NOT, for once, at something Kyminn had done. "I have been asked to return to the care of more conventional patients." The condescending tone reasserted itself. "I remind you that I have a notably strong Gift and am a highly trained and experienced Healer."

"Of course, Healer Delassia. If I may ask, have you been briefed on the role and procedures of the Team Leader?"

An irritable flick of one hand. "Yes, of course. Administration, scheduling, assignments… clerk's work. I expect I will find a suitable junior to delegate it to." She looked Kyminn over speculatively.

He headed that thought off before she could finish it. "While you are correct that some things can be delegated, the procedures," he stressed the last word, "have been established so that the team leader is really only being asked to do essential tasks. Since we lack so many of the support systems you're used to in the Collegium, team integration and structure becomes extremely important, as does the need for a clearly defined leader."

Given that Delassia was one of those people for whom 'leadership' is synonymous with 'giving directions to', Kyminn had a feeling this season's team dynamic was going to be very interesting. Hoping to at least get the senior started on the right path, he diffidently asked "When will the team meeting be held?"

A blank look greeted this inquiry. "I don't see a need for a team meeting. I will make the appropriate schedules and assignments. I will then make them available. At that time, I will designate sub-group leaders. Should anything need to be communicated, I will inform the sub-group leaders and they can inform the rest. As you are present and acceptably capable," Cydris choked again, "you will be the sub team leader for the Healers. I will have the schedules and assignments ready by breakfast." A stiff nod and she stalked away. The crowd silently parted before her, a small bubble of silence surrounding her until the flap dropped behind her.

"Did that really just happen?" Cydris looked stunned.

Kyminn rubbed his temples, sure he felt the beginnings of yet another headache. "It did. Cydris...I know she's not an easy person. She's not good with people and she's very much aware of that fact. Not having a group meeting is, in her mind, doing everyone a favour. Please, try to ignore her mannerisms and focus on the fact that she really is a brilliant Healer. That's what's important. Please? If you and I lead the way, hopefully others will ignore the packaging and accept that she has a lot to offer." His tone was pleading.

A sigh. "I've worked with her before, you know. I think I barely made it to 'acceptable' in her books, much less 'acceptably capable'. I'm just worried she'll be too focused on the wrong things and not be able to adjust."

"Me too." His sigh echoed hers. "Me too."

 _SCENE BREAK_

True to her word, Delassia had the group assignments, schedules, housing lists and other critical information ready by morning. Kyminn suspected someone had either helped her or simply convinced her to follow the procedure, for the resulting organization was clear, logical and well considered. While Kyminn appreciated the fact that Delassia had planned for necessities like food and rest, he wondered if she realized just how unrealistic her well-ordered plans actually were. For example, while it would have been thoughtful for her to consult the team with respect to preferred rooming arrangements, it certainly wasn't required. It would have been useful though, for her to have recognized the fact that they presently still lacked tents. He wondered what was going to happen when her "four person tent assignment" came up against the fact that they were much more likely to be living in a mixture of two, four, and ten person tents, in addition to possibly a wagon or two. He sighed and went to find the rest of the Healers. Somewhere, there was a Trainee he still hadn't met yet.

"Excuse me, Healer Kyminn." The porter was a Guardsman who had worked with Kyminn the summer before. Unlike the larger military forces, the Healer's company was small enough that faces became familiar over time.

"Joss? Good to see you again. What can I do for you?" Kyminn clasped the man's arm firmly.

"Well, sir, I was wondering if you knew what this 'clean equipment' item was on our schedule?"

Kyminn examined the offered schedule for the porters. There, just after the evening meal, was a notation that the time was to be used to 'clean equipment'. Which equipment, and why or how it was being cleaned, was unspecified.

He handed the page back with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry Joss, I've no idea. What does your team lead say?"

"He doesn't know either sir. We saw you talking to the senior Healer last night and thought you might have an idea." Clearly, the man knew Delassia's reputation and preferred to get his answers anywhere but from that worthy herself.

"Nothing about this, I'm afraid." It was rueful. "Your team lead had best ask the senior. That's what he's there for. But, now you've got me curious. When you do find out, let me know next time you see me, alright? No need to look me up, just try to remember next time we meet."

"Got it sir." The man gave a half smile. "I'm sure Corporal Lyell will be delighted when I tell him he's going to have to ask her himself."

Kyminn gave the man a friendly clout on the shoulder. "Now, now Joss. Corporal Lyell has come a long way and we both know it. I suspect he's even gotten so flexible that he might just consider the senior a bit more…structured…than he likes."

Joss was still chortling as he strode off to give his team leader the good news. For his part, Kyminn decided the mostly likely place to find his team was in the wards. Orders the night before had pulled only two groups of Healers forward. Experience told Kyminn this would be a day of small clashes and skirmishes. With hopefully only light casualties expected, the focus would be on the existing patients and improving their working conditions. This was confirmed when he passed a group of aides diligently lengthening the burial trench. Burial of the dead was necessary to prevent the spread of disease, but finding the time to do so could be difficult. Kyminn had done his share of that grim duty, the mundane effort of digging and the sting of blistered hands a welcome distraction from the realities in the tents behind. His nod to of acknowledgement to the diggers encompassed the complex tangle of their shared experience.

"Kyminn! We were wondering where you were!" Cydris was leading a troop of green-clad Healers through a review of patient cases. Most of her entourage were in the dark green of full Healers, but two wore the paler greens of trainees. These two bore identical expressions of determined stoicism, clearly trying to hide the fact they wondered if they were in the right place. If not for the setting, it would have been worth a smile.

"I have our team outline. The senior Healer is getting an update on our supply situation and will be along shortly. We…" a three tone horn cut off whatever he had been going to say. "Team nine, we're on triage. Outside."

The trainees glanced at each other and hesitantly followed the others. Kyminn caught Cydris's glance and moved into intercept them.

"Trainees Avi and Betra? I'm Kyminn Danner, you've already met Cydris. Avi, you'll be working with me for the next little while." He gestured the trainees to one side of the entrance.

"I'm sorry this is going to be so quick." He paused for a second. "There's a lot I'd like to go over before you jump into this, but we don't have the time. This isn't quite the same triage you'll have seen at say, an industrial accident back in Haven. There are more patients and it goes on longer. That means that some you might otherwise have saved will end up dying. Go ahead and hate that – it's the worst part of what we do. Just…don't hate yourself. I'm telling you now, it's not your fault. Burning yourself out on the next patient saves no one." A small, helpless shrug. "Stay with us, we'll get you through this."

Outside was chaos. Men, women, wagons and horses all converged on the yard in front of the tent. People bustled to and fro carrying bundles, dropping them with on the ground in seeming randomness. Cryptic shouts and instructions echoed, along with the cries of the approaching wounded.

Gradually, an eye began to perceive a form of order in the erratic wanderings. Vehicles approached from many directions, but left by only one. Bundles dropped on the ground proved to be stretchers, blankets and supplies, all of it arranged as so many for this wagon, so many for that one. A trainee would almost be afraid of entering the fray, lest one disrupt the dance.

"C'mon, that's us." Kyminn gave the trainee's elbow a brief tug towards a wagon that was being unloaded.

"Today is mostly skirmishing. Expect to see lots of piercing injuries from spears, javelins and the like. It also means mounted clashes, so sword injuries and falls as well. When the foot clashes, those are up close and personal attacks – overhand hacking, shield bashes, pike thrusts. The strategy sets the tactic, the tactic the weapon, the weapon the wound." He paused to see if Avi was taking this all in. "I'm not just giving you a bizarre recitation. Knowing what's going on tells what to expect and that lets you prioritize your care." Kyminn knelt by a stretcher, experienced hands peering under dressings and making a mental tally. "What do you see, Avi? For the next few moments, this is the only patient you have."

The trainee didn't hesitate, although he gave a quick, frightened glance at the wounded who continued to arrive. "Patient presents with a deep laceration to his lower left abdomen. The wound involves not only both layers of fascia, but has also penetrated the transverse abdominal muscle, the internal oblique and the peritoneum." Avi's eyes unfocused for a moment and he grew silent.

Kyminn reached out to link with the trainee. For Kyminn, linking was a hit-or-miss proposition. In some cases, he was able to form a strong link and able to provide energies to another Healer. At the opposite end were those with whom he was unable to link at all, each barely able to even perceive the other's presence.

Avi, fortunately, fell well into the 'link' side. Kyminn could quite easily link to and 'follow' what Avi was doing, and Kyminn would be able to offer his own strength to Avi, albeit in small, steady quantities. "Drinking through a straw", as one Healer had described it. Still, it meant that Kyminn's own strengths were drawn down slowly, making it available for candlemarks at a time. It was, quite literally, a lifesaver during long surgeries.

Through the link, Kyminn was present when Avi discovered what Kyminn's experience had already told him, but he waited the few heartbeats for the trainee to continue his assessment.

"The blow has pierced both the small bowel and the intestine," he trailed off until Kyminn gave him a mental _nudge_ through the link.

"That's enough for now. What's your treatment priority?" Kyminn pulled Avi's attention back to the present.

"This patient should be seen immediately." Avi shifted his attention from Kyminn to the wounded guardsman. "Your wound is deep and serious, but if we treat it right away, you have every reason to expect a full recovery."

Kyminn nodded mentally. The lad had good instincts. He hadn't let the environment overwhelm him to the point of forgetting that there was a very real person lying before him.

"Trainee Avi," Kyminn said formally, "Please place the patient in a Healing sleep." He waited until the man was resting, slack jawed and relaxed, before he went on. "You're doing fine so far. However, we're not going to take this patient immediately."

"But…" the trainee sputtered. "This is a bowel wound. We can fix it, but he's going to get peritonitis and die if we don't act!"

"Correct on both counts. However, if we leave with him now, we leave these other patients with _no_ care or assesement. Unfortunately, this is not going to be the only pierced bowel we encounter today." Kyminn nodded when the trainee paled. "What we're going to do is have you stabilize him – stop the bleeding and seal the puncture. Keep the problem from getting worse. If you weren't here, I'd simply have packed the wound and moved on. That will buy us about a candlemark. By then we'll know if there is someone who needs help even more urgently."

"What would be more urgent than this?" Avi looked at 'his' patient. In all likelihood, it was the first time he had been given any kind of responsibility for such a major injury.

"Sucking chest wound. Arrow wedged in the carotid artery. Open skull fracture. Flail chest with pierced lung. Avi, the list is long. And before you ask, yes, I've seen them all, many of them on the same day. Stabilize your patient and let's get moving."

Relatively speaking, the casualties that day were light, a mere 40 or so. Although there were a number of patients whose wounds were as severe as their first one, there were none worse. With enough Healers available, Avi and Kyminn did, in fact, treat Avi's patient first. Avi proved to have a sound, if essentially theoretical, knowledge of surgical techniques. He showed no hesitation though, in holding instruments, moving organs and using his Gift to seal blood vessels. His only surprise was near the conclusion of the surgery, when an aide wheeled over a cart with a gently steaming pot. Using tongs, Kyminn removed the lid of the pot, and gently ladled the contents into the patient's stomach. It looked for all the world as though Kyminn was serving the man soup – directly into his stomach.

"Healer Danner?" The trainee's utter surprise and confusion was apparent in the question.

"We scrub the pot inside and out. Then we fill it with water and boil the inside of the pot as well as the ladle. Dump the water out and fill the pot again. This time, we put in a measured amount of water and salt in the same ratio as the salt in our bodies. Then it cools to body heat. The result is saline water that's as pure as we can manage. We use this to clean out the abdominal cavity. It doesn't remove all the things that can cause wound fever, but it gets out wood, mud, grass and the like." Kyminn shook his head in memory. "For some reason, the technique never made it into the procedures. You will never, in the rest of your career as a Healer, see wounds as contaminated as these are. Oh, we knew how to clean a wound, but never with so much debris and never so many wounds. Normally, you rinse with dilute astringent and do multiple debrides, yes?"

"Yes, although there are rinses for major burns or something like barn soil." Avi nodded.

"Indeed. And those need to be prepared, and some don't keep, and they take herbs which we don't always have. We needed gallons and gallons of the stuff. A Healer named Jan Beck recalled a similar technique and he was the one who refined it for us. It is _now_ " Kyminn was emphatic, "in the Guard, Herald and Healer's Archives, as well as the Healer's Chronicles." He finished blotting the remaining saline fluid and gestured to Avi. "Please use your Gift to make sure we haven't missed anything and no infection has started. Then you can sew him up – don't worry, I'll be here the whole time."

By the time their shift was over, they had seen a 'light' caseload of nine patients, two of those being surgical cases. Avi had done well, although he was showing signs of being overwhelmed. As Avi finished strapping the last patient's broken collarbone, Kyminn twitched his head towards the door.

"Come with me, please Avi," Kyminn held the flap aside for the weary trainee.

"What now, sir?" The question was a valiant attempt, in spite of the youngster's fatigue.

"You needn't call me sir, Avi. I'm just Kyminn. Just a Healer, like you. I just happen to have a bit more experience. We're going to be in the thick of it for some time, there's no time for sirs and whatnot." Kyminn set off between the tents.

"Where are we going?" Avi trudged along beside him.

"For a walk," it was quiet.

"A walk?" Avi was startled.

"Avi, unless I am very much mistaken, you have just experienced probably the most intense day of your Healing career. You're tired, your head is swimming and you want to sleep. You're so overwhelmed you don't even realize you're hungry." A dry snort.

"I'm not hungry, it's fine." A weak protest.

"You will be, and it's not." Kyminn didn't look at his trainee – and wasn't that an odd notion! "I realize that you don't know me. We only met this morning and I've spent the day lecturing you and telling you what to do. And now I'm dragging you off into the darkness of gods knows where. If I were in your shoes, I'd wonder too."

Avi paced along beside him, thinking. "Why are we going for a walk?"

"To get away from things for a bit. Me, I usually head for the horse lines, but that's because I'm an Animal Healer and Animal Mindspeaker. I find it relaxing to talk to the horses, soothe them and make them feel better. I know one Healer who goes to the edge of the camp and collects rocks."

"Rocks?" If Kyminn had said 'Karsite ladies undergarments', it might have made more sense than…rocks.

"Rocks." Kyminn repeated. "He knows all about them – what their names are, how hard they are, which ones flake, which ones can be polished. He showed me some once and they can be surprisingly beautiful. I think that's why he does it – it's his way of finding something beautiful."

"So…mental health then." Avi seemed pleased to have found an explanation for the rocks.

"If you like. We all have ways of dealing with the stress of this situation. I'm telling you you're going to have to figure out what yours is. Tysen knits, I talk to horses and dogs, and Gerrand collects rocks. I wanted to give you a chance to take a breath and process things." Kyminn had fetched them up in a relatively quiet area of the wagon park. He found a dropped tailgate and hopped up in the wagon bed. Avi chose to pace back and forth, feet scuffing in the dust. He didn't seem inclined to talk and Kyminn didn't press him.

"It's going to get worse, isn't it?" Avi's voice from the darkness.

"Yes. This was a good day. The injuries weren't too bad and we didn't lose any patients. No one went insane, no one had been tortured." Calm, blunt.

"I tried to picture it, to prepare myself. I read archives – not stories, archives and case studies. Battle statistics, reports with pictures. I know the Collegium _hopes_ we can do this, _thinks_ we can do this. I don't want to let them down. I don't want to fail, to kill a patient through ignorance. I don't want to fail as a Healer."

"Every Healer feels that way at one time or another." Kyminn was matter of fact. "I was just thinking of how I remember having almost this exact same conversation a few years ago."

"Who did you talk to?" Avi climbed up beside Kyminn.

"A Companion named Jareth. I needed to step up and take my place as a Healer, but I was afraid. I was afraid of people not accepting me because I don't have the Healing gift, I was afraid other Healers would think I wasn't trained right, wasn't worthy." A self-deprecating chuckle. "I was afraid of a lot of things."

"And he helped?"

"He did. He gave me some perspective, and he gave me a kick in the rear when I needed it. I kind of miss his support though."

"What happened to him?" Avi asked gently.

"Nothing. He Chose, is all. He found Allek, I guess it would be about three years ago now. Allek was an adult Guardsman, so they didn't spend much time in Greys. I imagine they're off doing the King's business somewhere."

"I thought Companions only spoke to their Chosen?"

"Generally very true. Companions are extremely private, part of what comes across as mysterious. I've come to realize they have reasons for it, although I doubt I'll ever learn what it is. At the time though, Jareth was un-partnered and we had to work together. It's a complicated story, but I needed to do something and the Companion's needed to be able to communicate with me. Jareth volunteered."

"Huh." Avi absorbed that for a while. "The trainees who came with me, we're all from the same year. We've all had some experience with some pretty serious accidents that happened and I guess we did alright. I think that's one of the reasons we were sent here. I knew it would be worse, but I still don't feel ready."

"Nothing could have prepared you for this, Avi. Nothing. The first time I did major surgery, it was on a horse and I was guessing the whole time. I was so afraid that I threw up afterwards. But the next time I had to do something like that, I was less afraid – and I didn't throw up. And when I had to do surgery on a badly injured Companion, I was able to handle it. You learn by doing. You get past your fear by acknowledging it and then doing what you have to do. You want to know something else?"

"What?"

"My first season was right when the war started. We were all raw and new and didn't know what to expect. And it was much, much worse than we ever expected. And yes, I encountered things that made me sick to my stomach. Most of us do at one point or another. Don't let it define you, just learn and move on. Avi, from what I've seen you've got the instincts and courage to be a fine Healer. Keep in mind that being aware you have weaknesses doesn't keep you from being strong. Alright?"

"Kyminn, have you ever mentored a trainee before?" Avi said curiously.

Surprised at the apparent non-sequitur, Kyminn replied. "No, why do you ask?"

"Well then, your friend Jareth must have given pretty good pep talks. You're not bad at them, you know."

A quiet laugh in the darkness. "Thank you for that, Trainee. What say we find us both some dinner, hmm?"


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Within a few short days, the tenor of the war changed. In seasons past, the Tedrels had pushed as far into Valdemar as they could and then dug in, a badger defending her sett. From there they would spread out, razing crops and villages, leaving destruction in their wake. Valdemar would push back, trying to dig out the Tedrels and contain their depredations. To this point, the army had succeeded in pushing the Tedrels back across the border each time, but the cost in lost crops, flocks and buildings was exorbitant.

This year, the third season of the war, the Tedrels made their customary thrust north and begun their savage incursions. This time though, it was different. Instead of creating a base and waiting for Valdemar to push them out, this time the Tedrels moved additional troops forward and tried to vault further into the Valdemaran countryside. Time and again the army pushed these attacks back, only to have the Tedrels retreat to that dug in base and regroup for the next attempt.

Unlike the first few sennights of skirmishes and raids, the casualties now were heavier, the wounds more severe. Troops who fall during a pitched field conflict may remain there for some time before being evacuated. For those poor souls, the candlemarks spent bleeding in the mud are made worse by the battle swirling about around them, their own fellows trampling them and wounding them still further.

These more severe wounds of course, placed a greater strain on the Healers. Kyminn and Cydris smoothly picked up the thread of their old partnership. Avi and Betra, as yearmates, were equally accustomed to working together. Betra proved to lack Avi's aptitude for surgery but had the most delicate control of her Gift that Kyminn had ever encountered. Clearly, when selecting students to send to the front, the Healer's College had considered not only maturity and aptitude, but also which aspects of the Healing Gift would serve best.

Unfortunately, Kyminn's ability to link with Betra turned out to be minimal. Although they were able to 'find' each other, she was able to perceive his strength more as mist than an energy she could grasp and direct. They were much more successful if Avi or Cydris was in the link, but there was seldom a case that could afford the attention of two, let alone three or four, Healers.

A small positive emerged from the renewed Tedrel offensive though: with the front lines more or less stable, the supply train was finally able to catch up with them. Kyminn, like the others, was profoundly grateful to have a shelter once again. Perhaps the one most pleased at this development was Delassia. The senior Healer's mania for detail and order had been sorely tested by the 'make do' aspects of camp life. Intellectually, she understood the situation and refrained from demanding the impossible. Emotionally, however, she struggled profoundly with her inability to create order out of chaos. She grew even more terse and snappish than usual but asked no less of herself than she demanded of her team.

More than once they saw Delassia, her robes marked by red spray yet too focused to wipe the blood from her own eyes, pushing the amputated limb aside with an elbow as she tries to stop the bleeding. Then, blood still dripping form her cheek, the slump of defeat shaken off as she spins, barking at the porter, "Can't you see this one's gone? Get me the next one!" If she wielded the lash of perfection on her subordinates, she used it with an even heavier hand on herself.

With this change in strategy came the need to find and evacuate the wounded. Here, the dogs once more came into their own. With the help of the search and rescue dog handlers, wounded were located and evacuated far more quickly that before. Somewhere, a distant clerk who recorded such things would note a 13% increase of those found and treated within the first candlemark of searching. For the Healers and the injured though, the numbers were irrelevant. That the wards were full of patients alive because they'd been found in time, _that_ was all they cared about.

Kyminn did his utmost, especially in those early days, to keep Avi close. More often than Kyminn would have liked though, the sheer number of patients forced them to work separately. It would have been easy to relegate the Trainees to the lower priority patients and not expose them to the stresses of the critical cases, but that was simply impossible. Not only was it bad precedent and short-sighted in terms of teaching, telling a Healer set a broken leg while another patient bleeds out from a lacerated kidney puts that Healer in an intolerable position, personally and ethically. _Knowing_ that one's Gift can slow or stop the bleeding and save a life– even if one lacks the skill to effect the repair – and being told not to do so - would brutalize the Healer far more than failure would have.

As a result, the Trainees often found themselves working alone, relying on aide or two, their training, and shouted questions as they struggled to save a life. In the cruel mathematics of war, it was inevitable that the trainees would sometimes fail, their skill inadequate to the task. Kyminn spent many sleepless candlemarks searching his own soul as to whether they were doing the right thing. He and Cydris talked it over until they were both hoarse and drained, but the conclusion was inevitably the same: wrong action that _might_ have helped was a better choice than inaction. Deep inside, Kyminn knew that if _he_ was struggling, Avi's struggles must be even more bitter. Not for the first time, Kyminn found himself missing Jannen and Randen, or even Jareth's cryptic advice. Kyminn knew that Heralds experienced their own ethical conflicts and he envied them their unimpeachable guide. Companions were as capable of anger, vanity and other petty vices as their Heralds were, but were the surest of anchors in the murky waters of conscience.

In the end, Kyminn stole a few precious moments and wrote a letter to Dean Tannel. It was an honestly complimentary assessment of the performance of the Trainees, but he was equally honest in describing his concerns. In addition to matter of the Trainees' wellbeing, Kyminn's letter described the issues they were seeing within the Guard. Many of the troopers were volunteers or levies, pressed into service for this war. That they were experiencing mental trauma was unsurprising. Particularly damaging though was what they were hearing, - all too much of it true, - about what the Tedrels did to captured prisoners. _Those_ tales were the stuff of nightmares, and men who would willingly face a cavalry charge found themselves weak-kneed at the prospect of capture.

For the first time he could recall doing so, Kyminn took advantage of his staff-level access to add his note to the next courier packet. He wasn't vain enough to believe that he was the first Healer to have noticed their urgent need for Mindhealers, but this, at least, was something _he_ could do, redundant or not.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The images wrenched Kyminn out of a fitful dream where Avi was frantically trying to staunch random sprays of blood that popped out of his patient like prairie dogs from their holes. The Trainee was screaming and yet Kyminn was unable to reach him. No matter what Kyminn did, he was unable to climb over the pile of corpses which lay between them, corpses with accusing faces and cobalt blue eyes. For once, having his shields hammered came as a relief.

"Delassia!" Kyminn's voice was still thick with fatigue, although he'd taken the time to dress.

"What?" Even in sleep the senior was orderly, her blankets almost un-mussed.

"Foresight. A Companion." Kyminn sorted the impressions and images. "Late afternoon I think, during a storm. It's raining now, and I'm sure this is today."

Delassia sat up and Kyminn envied her ability to move from sound asleep to completely alert without transition. "Do you know who, or where? What kind of injury?"

A shake of his head. "I didn't see anyone I can positively identify, but that doesn't mean anything definitive. A crushing injury, I think."

"Is it preventable?" this was the most important question.

"Maybe. As soon as I get dressed, I'm leaving for the Lord Marshall's staff tent. They'll know where the Heralds will be and warn them. Really, that's all I can do. I didn't get any idea of place. It was noisy though, like thunder."

In spite of her mania for detail and accuracy, Delassia knew better than to demand information that a Foresight simply hadn't offered. In that much at least, she accepted that Kyminn had told her everything he possibly could.

"Go. See me when you return. I'll make sure a Companion litter and the necessary supplies are waiting." Delassia swung her feet into her boots without looking, dismissing Kyminn to his task.

Kyminn had long since been placed on the admittance list to the Lord Marshall's staff tent. The present protocol was based solely on the urgency of his message. In more than one instance, the duty officer had roused the Lord Marshall immediately after hearing Kyminn's message. This time though, the Lord Marshall would be able to rest undisturbed.

Captain Vessar was this night's duty officer, tasked with receiving and evaluating any reports or messages which might arise. On seeing Kyminn, she half rose, but settled again at his gesture. Important, but not urgent then. She nodded for him to report.

With the succinct ease of long practice, Kyminn told her what his Foresight had shown. On the walk over, his sense of "where" had grown somewhat, but remained unclear. He could only offer a vague region on the map, but the time had become definite – midafternoon. He hesitated a moment before adding, cautiously, "I thought I Felt a sword, but I'm not sure. It's possible that our intervention is preventing that." Even after so many years, the tenuous nature of his visions continued to be a frustration.

Captain Vessar's nod of acknowledgement had a wry undertone. _Everyone_ who dealt with the capriciousness of Foresight wished for more clarity. "I'll brief the Lord Marshall on this first thing. With the timing being so definite, it can wait for now. As always, thank you Kyminn."

A nod and a vague, salute-like wave, and Kyminn returned to the dark rain, hoping to scratch out a candlemark or so of additional rest. Preferably one without dreams.

 _SCENE BREAK_

"Bull, Search!" Kyminn sent the dog into the trampled mud of what had once been a prosperous farm. Cydris and Betra were on his right flank, Raff searching the still smoldering ruins for the living. Both the Healers tried to avoid looking at the small, charred shapes within. Betra pulled a wide blue ribbon from her pouch and tied to a post, a marker for the graves team.

Avi and Tip covered the left flank. By nature, Tip was quicker to defend than Raff and thus a better choice if Avi was searching solo. Tip, as Kyminn was wont to point out, was a fighter, not a thinker. The mastiff would defend first, dodge second.

 _CRACK! Crushing pain. Flashes of steel. A twisting rumble underfoot._

Kyminn pulled up short, his face turning unerringly to the south west. There! This was why their team had been assigned to search this sector. It placed Kyminn and his Gift more or less in the center of that vague region in the hopes that his Gift would respond again. There was always the chance that it wouldn't and they would spend the day searching farmsteads, but no search for survivors could ever be considered a waste of time.

"Now! There!" he bellowed, his arm pointing at the rising hill a half mile away. The mounted guardsmen, sent along in hope of just this contingency, spurred their horses in the direction indicated. Kyminn and the others followed on foot. He'd long since gotten over any ridiculous, childish visions of himself gallantly ahorseback, leading troops to the rescue. Leave the rescue to the armoured, armed and trained professionals. His role in such dramas came later, but was by no means a lesser part.

He _reached_ , not for Delassia, but for the litter horses standing by at the camp. Their shrill neighs were Delassia's own signal to depart. Unlike Kyminn, Delassia was mounted, a prudent preparation given that they had had no way of knowing just how far she might have to travel. In bare moments, she and the assigned crew were clattering off, following the litter horses.

Panting, the Healers jogged into the little canyon. Kyminn didn't even have to instruct the dogs – the three of them launched themselves at the Tedrels engaged with the guardsmen and those hacking at the downed Companion. The Companion mare was lashing out with teeth and one forefoot, and Kyminn Felt the pain from her fractured hip as she tried to defend her Chosen.

For a moment, a sense of deja-vu washed over Kyminn. Rocks. Mud. A downed Companion and unconscious Herald. This was how his journey had started.

This time though, the injuries were far from accidental. Kyminn could see where the Tedrels had created a barrier of trees and rocks further up the arroyo. Clearly, they had anticipated that Valdemar would scout this route and they'd set up an ambush. With one end blocked, they'd triggered a rock fall, intending to box their victim (or victims) in and finish them off at their leisure. Instead of trapping a scout patrol, they'd trapped a Herald and her Companion. The Companion would have gotten the pair to safety, if not for the unintended secondary rock fall that smashed into them.

Betra darted forward, halted when both Cydris and Kyminn grabbed her. Kyminn's own sword was out in the event the Tedrels broke past the guard, but at this point, that seemed unlikely. A glance over at Avi told Kyminn that the trainee wasn't about to leap into the fray. Judging from the look on the young Healer's face, _watching_ fatal blows land and men cut down in front of him had shaken Avi in ways that floods of wounded had not. A paling and convulsive swallow was all the warning Kyminn needed. He released Betra and wrapped one arm around Avi's shoulders while the young healer threw up.

Avi was still retching when the last Tedrel fell, so with a final regretful pat of his Trainee's shoulder, Kyminn sheathed the sword and bolted toward the Companion. She had fallen with her hindquarters partly beneath her, her forequarters twisted to one side. Had his Gift not told him differently, Kyminn would have thought she had shattered her spine instead of her pelvis and ribs. A hand on her neck and his Gift blocked her pain, her laboured breathing easing as her side moved more freely.

"Easy does it milady. Slow breaths if you would please. In a few moments we'll take care of those ribs so we can get you up. You and your Chosen are in good hands." He sank deeper and examined the break in her hind end. Fortunately, the break was a single, clean crack and the bones remained largely in alignment. Unfortunately, that particular bone contained several major blood vessels. Shifting the limb could have disastrous consequences. Why was it that all the Companions he treated seemed to be in imminent danger of bleeding to death? Carefully, with as delicate a touch as he could manage, he immobilized the break, staving off disaster for the time being.

Blue eyes bored into Kyminn. Pinned as she was, the Companion was unable to see her Chosen, aware only through their bond that her Herald was unconscious and gravely injured. A half nod and he reached again, linking to Cydris. Although his own energies were dedicated to the Companion, through the bizarre triangulation the Companion could not only feel what Cydris felt, but Kyminn could interpret those findings. Unwilling to expend the energies the Companion so desperately required, he quickly released the link, the Companion's dismay palpable as he did so.

"Your Chosen's injuries are severe. Both legs are shattered into dozen or more pieces. They are trying to restore and maintain circulation to the crushed arteries. If they are successful, the bone healing will come in time. Companion, they are also concerned about her back. At least two of her vertebrae are cracked. Her spine is damaged, but not severed. They are worried, but not hopeless." Kyminn had long since learned to never, ever lie – or even shade the truth – when it came to speaking with Companions.

Hooves on stone announced the arrival of Delassia and the others. Kyminn hadn't noticed that the guardsmen had cleared away the Tedrels and deployed sentries of their own. He looked around for Avi and was gratified to note the two sets of student greens attending the Herald. If the Herald died, two lives would be lost, for her Companion would not outlive her.

One would think that after studying equines for so many years that Delassia would have become at least a moderately competent rider. Judging from her flopping limbs and uneven seat though, it was clearly a skill she hadn't bothered to acquire. Equally clear was that she was willing to do whatever necessary when it came to her patients. When Delassia attempted to dismount, Kyminn was afraid they would gain another patient, but the Healer managed to remain upright.

Delassia linked with Kyminn and nodded in absent approval of his work thus far. "Companion, I am Senior Healer Delassia. My specialty is the treatment of Companions. This is Healer Kyminn Danner, my apprentice in this specialty. In order for us to move you, we are going to have to shift the broken bones in your pelvis. It is going to be extremely painful."

Kyminn twitched in surprise. If he was Delassia's apprentice, this was the first he'd been made aware of the fact. Rather than address that extraordinary comment, he addressed their patient. "I know you would prefer to remain conscious, but it's going to take all our skill to make sure this next part is done correctly. We dare not try to pain block at the same time."

That was not what the Companion wanted to hear. She pinned her ears back and glared at Kyminn. Slowly, reluctantly, she gave a bare nod of permission. He waited until she had laid her head down, his touch on her cheek gentle as the light in her blue eyes faded.

Moving their patient was delicate, strenuous work. Kyminn agreed fervently with Delassia when she grumbled that "protocol is for someone with a Fetching gift to be present." It certainly would have made their job easier. Aside from the broken bones, the Companion was suffering from an array of cuts and bruises, including a puncture wound just behind her foreleg. How this blow had failed to pierce anything vital was a bit of a mystery, but the dark stain on the ground answered the question of what had happened to the Tedrel who'd tried it.

Although there had been – thankfully – no call for them thus far, it was standard procedure to set up treatment stations for Companions as well as the more usual human wards. It was with a profound sense of relief that they installed their patient in her padded frame. She was an odd sight with one leg tucked up against her body and her hindquarters swathed in felted strapping. In a day or so those straps would be eased and the leg repositioned more normally but in the interim, the positioning afforded additional support to the hip.

Delassia looked the rig over, searching for any detail that might be amiss. "The next step is the forward medial puncture wound." She paused as though searching for words. Since her usual approach was to blurt out whatever came to mind, Kyminn gave her the space she needed. "While you skills are adequate to the task, they are, I believe, better used elsewhere at this time."

"If you're trying to say that you don't need my help for that puncture and we should focus our efforts on her Herald, I agree." Kyminn gave the dozing Companion a final glance. "I don't suppose you know who they are, do you?"

"I make a study of Companions, not a visual record. No, I do not." A flap of dismissal. He simply shook his head and left. He expected he was needed in surgery.

He'd guessed correctly. He was still scrubbing the dirt from his hands while he linked to Avi, Betra and Cydris. Judging from the weariness that echoed back to him, it had been a grueling afternoon thus far.

General practice had one, perhaps two, Healers working on a patient at any given time. Three, or as in this case four, was unheard of. Heralds though, are the exception to a great many rules. Perhaps the only other patient who could have claimed the attention of so many was the King himself, or perhaps the Heir.

As he slid into the link and into his space beside them, an oddly tranquil focus settled over Kyminn. This was what he was meant to do, this union of hands and minds that put things right and made lives whole again.

"It's just about impossible to hold these shards together long enough to bind them," Betra was clearly frustrated at their slow rate of progress. "Some of them are too small to use external pins so we have to knit from the inside out." As she spoke, Kyminn "saw" the bone pieces drift apart, even the combined Gifts of four Healers spread too thin to hold them in place.

Kyminn automatically opened the link, sending his own strength to the flagging Trainee. She made a face, "Thank you Kyminn, but I don't think it's going to help. Your power is too…misty…for me."

Kyminn watched as Betra tried again, her energies hair thin as she teased the tiny shards into place. As the others tried to wrap the repaired section in a healing web, the ripple of energy disrupted her threads and the pieces came apart.

"Can't push, can't pull," Cydris murmured. She blinked and looked at Kyminn. "What was it you said one time about power and pulling? Something about how mist clings…"

Kyminn looked baffled. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes you do! Betra says your power is mist to her, and you said mist clings, makes things wet. Remember?" Cydris prodded, impatiently.

"Thank you Cydris – and grandmother!" Kyminn breathed as memory bloomed. "Cydris is right. Don't try to push the bone together. Use that weak power to 'wet' the bone, like adding glue. Then bind the power, not the bone. Cydris and Avi will make a sleeve of power to slide over the bone, like a cast. Do you see?"

It took a few tries before Betra got it to work, but once they figured it out, they made rapid progress. Betra described it as having the pieces floating in a 'soup' of energy. All she had to do was nudge them into position and then solidify the soup.

As the last stitch went in, Kyminn felt each of the others slowly withdrawing from the link. It was a strangely empty feeling. Or maybe the emptiness was simply how drained his reserves were, for he wasn't the only one to stagger badly when the link dissolved. The ready hands of the aides were there to catch the Healers and convey them to the nearest bed. In some cases, it was more carried than guided.

"Shh…the Herald is fine. Rest now." It seemed like excellent advice and Kyminn surrendered to the darkness.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The cool of dawn was his favourite time of day. The obscuring night was gone and the days' concerns still distant. It was, arguably, the only moments of peace he'd see that day.

"Got room?" Cydris still sounded sleepy, but the tea in her hands would remedy that.

"Of course."

She settled in beside him, savoring the hot tea. The chill air walked goosebumps up her arms.

Kyminn shrugged off the blanket he'd wrapped around himself and draped it over the two of them. She shifted over to fit beneath it, blanket and Kyminn providing welcome warmth.

"So? Have you…"

"Checked on the Herald? Yes, she's fine. I'd like you to look at her, of course."

"I was going to," he could hear the smile in her voice. "How's…"

"She's doing well. Delassia and I will have to devote some serious time to bone healing over the next few days, but she'll make a full recovery. By the way, we finally found out who they are. I guess the information came in overnight. The Herald is Herald Rosen, the Companion is Zayle."

"The name is familiar to me, but I've never met either. There aren't very many Heralds who were Chosen from a travelling faire. If the rumours are to be believed, she's quite an astonishing juggler."

Kyminn grinned over at her. When they sat like this, they were eye to eye. He liked that. "A juggler, hmm? Good preparation then, for the life of a Herald!"

It was nice, sitting here like this, calm and quiet, Cydris tucked in beside him. It was, of course, all too brief though, as the awareness of the days tasks prodded them off the bench.

"I think Delassia is going to task me to remain here, with the Companion Zayle. I'll leave the dogs and Avi with you then." A brief pause, then, "Be careful." It was redundant – Cydris was always careful, but something made him say it anyway.

She turned to look at him, caught by his phrasing. "Kym? Foresight?"

"No. Nothing like that." He was quick to reassure. "I just don't want to see anything happen."

A faint smile flickered across her face. "I will." A mischievous grin followed it. "I'd never leave you to face Delassia on your own, that would be cruel!"

They were both still chuckling as he regretfully folded the blanket and began their day.

 _SCENE BREAK_

"Alright Zayle, let's loosen these straps and see how stable your hip is. I'm going to ask you to hold your leg still while I do this, alright?"

Four mornings since the attack and Zayle was making good progress. Since Kyminn's Gift did not serve human patients, he directed all his energies towards the Companion. Delassia joined them for sessions in the early morning and late in the day, but the majority of her strength was reserved for patients with two legs. In other circumstances, she would have directed all her efforts solely to the Companion, but that was simply not a luxury they could afford. That didn't prevent her from overseeing all aspects of Zayle's care, however, although she admitted Kyminn was doing well enough on his own.

The Companion held her leg stock still, tolerating the awkward position in a way no horse ever would have. She had bent her head around, gimlet blue eyes supervising the Healer's technique.

Kyminn closed his eyes, letting his senses reach out, twining together with the life beneath his hands. His heart beat in time with hers, his slow breathing in lock-step with hers. A tiny sliver of consciousness held them separate, man from not-man, Healer from Healed. No one had had to tell him that it was all too easy to lose oneself in this, to wander so far from one's own _selfness_ that you never found your way back.

There, the _wrongness_ in the bone, the disunion of what _should be_ compared to what _was._ Kyminn poured power into the _wrong_ , shaping it, telling it "This is what you _should be_ ", using the power to make the body create new bone, to turn _wrong_ into _right._ It was a slow, painstaking process, for it drew not only on the power of the Gift, but also the power and resources of the patient's own body. Even a Companion, astonishingly strong in so many ways, is not without limits.

A hair's width at a time, new bone is cleaved to old, the fracture healing, a fraction at a time.

 _PAIN! An intolerable agony, a wrenching of the very breath from his lungs. The entire world shatters, fragments of_ self _spinning away into the darkness._

There are no words as his very soul is rent in two. A woman's voice screams and he flings himself after her, reaching – grasping - groping in the abyss. There! There she is! Falling, spinning, tossed in a swirling chaos of torment. He could reach her, he knew he could! Just a bit farther, just a bit deeper! He follows her, that white shape flickering in the shadows, his ears filled with a sound so dreadful it could never be called a scream.

PAIN! He feels this too, the sickening crack of a broken bone splintering, tearing, membranes rupturing. This pain, the pain of a shattered body, is trivial, a welcome, redundant agony.

"Healer!" Kyminn doesn't hear the shouts. He is Zayle and she is lost in the darkness. She is their consciousness.

He doesn't see the white body lunging out of the splintered frame, rearing, screaming, flailing in insensate grief.

He doesn't see the shovel, wielded by a desperate Guardsman, that smashes him on the side of the head, sending him into a different kind of darkness, separating him from the Companion, from the abyss.

Most of all, he doesn't feel the weight of the Companion, the blow that smashes his knee when the body collapses, the valiant heart failing as she follows her Chosen into the Havens.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

 _A/N I know the last chapter was a short one, but I felt it was an event that pretty much needed to stand on its own. A note – Kyminn has a pretty dark time in this next bit. Might not be for everyone._

Smells. Sun warmed canvas. Dust. The smell of an old wool blanket, along with the unexpected scent of clean cotton and herbs. It's a discontinuity, this sense of what should be and yet what is not. He tries to remember, but it's elusive: a name, a white form in the darkness. He struggles to recall, to understand, but it's easier to surrender to sleep. His breathing deepens again.

This time, the weight of _self_ is less, more easily borne. This cage has a name – body, and it has become more ally than enemy. Even the darkness feels more natural, more penetrable. Something niggles at him, something he should do. Ah, yes, eyes. He has eyes. He tries to open them but they are hot and gritty, rusty from disuse. Irritably, he tries to raise his arm to rub them, but it's astonishing how difficult it is. His attempts to force the limb to move are trifles, a kitten trying to move a house. His growl of frustration emerges as a hiss, which turns into a cough. He's so weak! Why is he so tired?

"Healer?" The voice was unfamiliar, a woman's. A brief, teasing memory, a woman he should know, should follow…the thought slips away.

The attempt to speak resulted in a guttural croak, but the unfamiliar voice seemed to understand. "Be easy, Healer. You've been abed for a little bit now. I'll get you a drink and let the others know you're awake."

The straw against his lips told him to drink and he did, astonished at how parched he was. When he twitched his head aside, the straw withdrew. A clatter, a splash and then a dripping sound, so he was unsurprised by the warm cloth that bathed first his gritty eyes, then the rest of his face. Blinking, he opened his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again.

"Here, Healer, try this." 'This' was a cloth shading his eyes, this one dry and dense. "You're in the shade, but even that much light might take some getting used to. You wait now; I'll tell someone you're awake."

He was too busy squinting, trying to open his eyes without being blinded, to notice that she'd left. He'd succeeded, finally, in opening his eyes enough to take in the light that made its way through the coarse fabric.

"Kyminn!" Kyminn was surprised at his own disappointment when he heard Tysen's voice. Somehow, he'd been expecting…hoping?...for someone else.

"Ty?" It was a rough croak.

To Kyminn's astonishment, Tysen wrapped him in a bear hug, and Kyminn heard a funny catch in his friend's breathing for a few moments.

"Ty? What's wrong?" the more he used his voice, the better it got.

"Nothing's wrong, not anymore." Tysen's was oddly emphatic.

"Ty…what happened? What's going on? Was I sick?" Even as he said the last, Kyminn knew he hadn't been sick, knew that it was something else, something terrible.

Tysen had always been a terrible liar, but he was quite willing to hedge when the occasion required it. "Let's get you sitting up. You're probably as weak as a day old kitten," unconsciously, his words mirrored Kyminn's own thoughts. The Healer removed the no-longer required fabric from Kyminn's eyes and helped Kyminn sit up, taking care to prop him up carefully. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time getting the pillows just right.

"Tysen." Tired though he was, Kyminn was awake enough to recognize a stall when he saw one.

Tysen simply offered the straw again, refusing to set it down until Kyminn had given in and drunk some more water. Kyminn drank, his eyes demanding answers.

"What do you remember?" Tysen was gentle, almost cautious.

Kyminn tried to think back, something he realized he'd been avoiding ever since he'd woken up. His memories seemed oddly disconnected, as though they had happened to someone else. It was like viewing a painting – a scene viewed, but without touch, without sensation or feeling.

"There was an accident…" he prodded that memory again, carefully. "No. Not an accident. An attack. The Tedrels attacked a Companion." He froze for a moment, like one does when striking an already broken toe – waiting for the bloom of pain to follow. Nothing. Numbness. Numbness and a strange hollowness.

Tysen was watching him carefully, almost as though he was afraid Kyminn would…what? The other Healer nodded for Kyminn to continue.

"The Herald…Rosen", why did his voice have such a funny catch to it when he said that name? "Her legs were badly broken and she'd broken her back. We Healed her." He searched his mind again. This next part, these images, they were elusive, as though part of him didn't want to see them. "Her Companion Zayle was injured too. Delassia and I were Healing her. I…" he stuttered to a halt, trying to put words to what had happened. "Zayle…"

Tysen grasped both of Kyminn's hands, whether in reassurance or restraint was difficult to tell. "Kyminn, Herald Rosen died. She died when you were linked to the Companion Zayle. Companions don't…stay…when their Chosen dies. When Zayle tried to go…you went with her. You were…not here and we thought we'd lost you. They couldn't break you out of it."

Memories swirled. Shattered shards of sapphire blue. A white shape disappearing into the darkness. Kyminn stared at Tysen, appalled. "What…how…?"

A slow shake of his head and Tysen looked bitter. "It was an embolism. A blood clot from the injuries to her legs. It happened very quickly while she was resting in a Healing sleep. The closest Healer Felt something go wrong, but by the time help got there, it was too late." His eyes were haunted. "More than thirty of us here, Kyminn. Thirty Healers and we couldn't save her. Most of us were at the front and those that were here couldn't reach her in time." His eyes begged Kyminn to forgive those who had been faced with an impossible dilemma: the life one held – literally – in one's hands while desperate to save the Herald dying a few feet away. It's a poisoned coin, to count how many lives a will Herald cost.

A bitter twist of the lips – not a smile, but something that told Tysen that Kyminn understood – understood and forgave. Kyminn tried to raise his hand, forgetting both his weakness and that Tysen still held them. "How long has it been?"

Tysen drew in a deep breath. "Kyminn, you were injured…in a number of ways. First off, tell me this – what do you feel when you use your Gifts?"

A blink, then Kyminn tried to reach out, feel his shields. Carefully, cautiously, he _reached_ and felt…nothing. In growing alarm, he tried again, feeling for each of his Gifts. Only Tysen's repeated reassurances prevented Kyminn from utter panic.

"It's alright! It's supposed to be like that! Kyminn!" the sharp bite in Tysen's voice at last penetrated and Kyminn subsided.

"Kyminn…in addition to very nearly dying outright, you also nearly completely drained your Gifts. Permanently. Your channels were badly damaged and the Mindhealer said that it's a good thing you were already knocked out because the only thing that will allow you to recover is to not use your Gifts for _at least_ another moon. She also said you're lucky someone wrote and asked for Mindhealers, because your channels were damaged beyond any other form of help." Tysen released his friend's hands and grasped Kyminn's shoulders, shaking him lightly to emphasize his point. _"_ _IF_ you rest, you will recover. In aid of that, the Mindhealer has completely blocked your Gifts – and yes, that includes your Foresight. In addition, we have taken it upon ourselves to take turns in keeping shields on you at all times. We don't want anything getting _into_ your head either."

A faint, relieved nod. Automatically, he tried to reach out, to test the shields around him. It was like trying to pick something up with an amputated limb. His mind told him it should be there; that there should be action, but there was nothing. Like when one miscounts and stumbles over the step that isn't there, it brought him up short. It was an altogether disconcerting and unpleasant sensation.

"What else?" Kyminn finally succeeded in raising his hand, rubbing his sore eyes. He paused and frowned slightly as his fingers encountered an unfamiliar, still-tender scar. Cautiously, he traced it, from a point on his cheek just below his eye into his hairline and across his temple. "What…?"

"A Guardsman heard you both screaming. Zayle was…thrashing violently. The place was a shambles and he said you were just standing there, hands out, screaming. He tried to get through to you, but he said it was as though there was no one there." Tysen was somber, "He was more right than he knew. He did the only thing he could think of; he picked up a shovel and whacked you on the head with it. He told us later that he was afraid you were 'gone from your own self', was how he put it, and that being unconscious might make it impossible for you to get back, but he was afraid you were dying."

Kyminn looked away, his gaze inward and dark. "I think I was; that we were. I remember terrible, terrible pain, and feeling separated from myself. She was leaving and I wanted to be with her, _needed_ to be with her. She was going somewhere…where it didn't hurt any more. I wanted to go too."

"Kyminn?" Never before had Kyminn heard that note of fear in his friend's voice.

Kyminn's smile was watery, his voice rough. "I'm alright. I just…I remember it hurting and knowing there was somewhere that it wouldn't hurt anymore. I remember it being the only thing I wanted." A shaky breath. "I remember feeling it, but I don't feel that way now." He paused, searching for words to convey something unexplainable. "It's strange, actually. I _remember_ what happened, I _remember_ how it felt. Only I don't still feel it. It's as though there's a scar and I can remember getting hurt, I remember that it was painful, but I can't remember what that kind of pain felt like."

"That's the Mindhealer's doing." Tysen shifted uncomfortably. "There was a lot of discussion as to whether or not to attempt it. I'm surprised the shouting match itself didn't wake you up." He sighed. "The Mindhealer wanted to put a…shield…of sorts around the emotional part of those memories. She believes that since the feelings weren't actually yours to begin with, you have no real context for processing them. She believes very strongly that experiencing them will do more harm in the long run."

"I take it not everyone agreed with her?" Kyminn wasn't sure he was comfortable knowing someone had interfered with his memories.

"Several other Healers thought it was a good idea. However, ALL of your friends disagreed with her - Eiven, me, Cydris, Avi, Betra, everyone. We know you; we know how your Gifts work and we had a good idea of how this affected you. We knew you'd want to decide this for yourself. Kyminn, you should have seen Delassia and the Mindhealer going at it. I thought we were going to have a fistfight right there over your bed. To hear Delassia tell it, it was interference of the most pernicious kind. She didn't straight out accuse the Mindhealer of abusing her Gift, but she came awfully close."

"So how did the Mindhealer get her way?" Delassia had fought for him?

Tysen sighed. "They'd probably still be going at it, hammer and tongs, if the Herald hadn't showed up." A sour grimace. "He just appeared, right about the time Delassia was ranting about meddling, free will and how are you supposed to 'process' feelings you aren't allowed to feel. None of us had ever seen him before. He actually had to shout everybody down, which took longer than you'd think. He asked everyone their opinions and when everyone had had their say, all he said was 'The Companions support the Mindhealer.' After that, the only hold outs were the six of us so the Mindhealer got her way."

"Hold outs?" It was all he could think of to say. The _Companions_ had weighed in? What on earth for?

Tysen shrugged, unrepentant. "We think the Companions are wrong. Frankly, we're not sure why they stuck their noses into this in the first place. Yes, it was a tragedy involving a Companion, but now we need to focus on helping you heal. To be honest, I wonder if they aren't feeling guilty about it."

Kyminn shook his head slowly. "I've got no more idea on it than you have. But I do know that I want to talk to this Mindhealer. I am willing to admit it's not an area I know much about, but I want to know why she thought it was the right decision. Right now I feel like part of me is missing, inaccessible. I don't care for it and the notion that someone can do this to me makes me awfully uncomfortable. But," and it was grudging, "I am willing to hear her out. Presumably she wouldn't be here otherwise."

Tysen nodded his understanding. He hesitated a moment, then said, "How are you doing?"

"Exhausted," Kyminn said frankly. "Confused. It's a lot to take in." A gusty breath. "And why do I have the feeling you haven't told me all of it yet? The others, they're all alright?"

"Everyone's fine, mostly just worn out worrying about you. You've been in a Healing sleep for quite a while now – we brought you out enough to eat a bit, but that's all. That's why you're so exhausted Kym, you've been a patient for twenty-six days now." Tysen saw the look on Kyminn's face and shook his head to head off the protest.

"Your channels were – and still are – badly injured. The head injury from the shovel was fairly straightforward, although he did manage to fracture your cheekbone. The scar will fade in time – Avi does good work – but I'm afraid you're stuck with it. The Mindhealer was adamant that you remain in a Healing sleep for a good portion of her treatment. Much as I disagree with her on the one point, I have to admit that you did improve under her care."

Tysen wasn't sure if he'd ever tell his friend what those early days had been like: Kyminn ranting and incoherent, alternately calling out for Zayle and Rosen, begging to be allowed to go with them. Even drugged and unconscious, Kyminn's body would be racked with sobs, tears flowing down his cheeks, convulsing as he tried to escape his grief.

"I'm sorry to have to add to this Kyminn, but there were other injuries too. When Zayle…collapsed, you were right beside her. She fell on you, Kym. She broke your leg when most of her weight came down on your knee." Tysen reached out, his Healer's touch withdrawing the last pain block. They had all agreed this was the best way, to let him discover things one at a time, to give him time to cope. Otherwise, they'd feared, waking to discover all in a rush that he was scarred, numbed, gift blind and permanently lamed…the memory of Kyminn lying there, begging to be allowed to not hurt anymore…that memory was all too fresh and they frankly feared for his sanity if his recovery were to be mishandled.

The sudden ache in his leg made him catch his breath in surprise. How had he not noticed its absence before? At Kyminn's nod, Tysen folded back the blankets and rolled up the legging. Had it not been for the fact that it was, quite clearly, still attached and assuredly painful, Kyminn would have wondered if the leg in question was his own.

Instead of a straight, hale, young man's limb, this was a gnarled mottled thing, an old man's leg. Ropy red scars ran over and around the knee, marking the places they'd tried to put the pieces back together. He could tell by the shape of the knee that it would never bend fully again, and already the muscles around it had begun to shrink and atrophy. Time and exercise would bring some of that back, but it always be weak and twisted. Kyminn stared at Tysen, his face an open question.

"You will be able to stand, and walk. You'll even be able to ride. We're hoping that you'll be able to walk without a cane, but we're not sure of that yet." No flinching, no apologies, no lies. Gentle, crushing honesty.

Cast adrift, Kyminn floundered. He was head blind and numb, maimed in ways no one could yet explain to him, cut off from his memories and not able to grieve a loss he _knew_ he should feel acutely. This though, this was a grief he understood, a grief he could access. Frozen, he simply sat there, tears coursing down his cheeks as he struggled to understand it all.

"Tysen? I think I'd like to be alone now please." He was too weary, too exhausted to be _present_ for anyone else. He was suddenly desperate for peace, for silence.

"I don't think I can do that." Tysen's words were strangely gentle and Kyminn finally realized the last part of it, the unseen wound they feared he carried within. Kyminn buried his face in his pillow and wept.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

He lay there, quiet and still, not yet ready to open his eyes. For those few seconds of darkness, it was easy to pretend that it had all been a dream. Well, not pretend, exactly. He was too self-honest for that; but holding the world at bay for a while longer let him admit that he wished very badly that things had turned out differently.

Trying not to sigh, he opened his eyes. He had no idea of what time of day it was, save that the sun was up.

"Hello Kyminn." Kyminn was quickly becoming familiar with – and learning to despise - the odd note of caution in people's voices. Hearing it though, didn't prevent him from attempting a small smile.

"Hello Cydris."

She held up the tumbler and at his nod of assent, put the straw to his lips. Water again, but with a pleasant, fruity undertone. It was surprisingly refreshing.

"I'm alright Cydris." He tried to make it sound believable.

"No, you're not." A slow shake of her head. "But you will be, if you let yourself."

Kyminn scrubbed his face with his hands, his expression frustrated. "I'm not even sure what that means. 'If I let myself'."

"It means you need to accept that you've been through a unique trauma. I'm going to tell you what Tysen didn't, but what you _need to understand._ Kyminn, you tried to die. Several times, actually. I admit that I argued as loudly as anyone when Nassim wanted to block those parts of your memories. But that was before I understood what they were doing to you. Many of those feelings aren't truly yours – and yet they are. Until you learn how to separate 'Kyminn' from Zayle and Rosen, you can't move forward. You don't realize how fragile you are. Well, honestly, now that you're awake, no one really knows how fragile you are."

She moved over to sit beside him on the bed, squeezing his hand gently. "I know I don't know how you're feeling. None of us do. But we know you're struggling and we're going to help you. Not as a patient, but as someone we care about."

He tried to find the right words to answer her, picking and discarding phrases and feelings. She was right though, it wasn't something he was ready – or able – to express. He finally settled on "Thank you, Dris."

She drew back a bit, startled. "What did you call me?"

He tried to pull his hand away, but she held firm. "I'm sorry. I called you Dris. It's a…nickname I sometimes use for you, in my head. When I'm thinking about you…" He dragged to a halt, conscious of the fact that he was babbling and making things worse. "I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

A small quirk of a smile. "It's alright. You just surprised me, is all. No one calls me that any more. My Nonna-Aunt used to call me that when I was small. I'm afraid I was rather a difficult child at times, but Nonna always managed to explain things in a way that made sense, instead of seeming illogical and unfair." A real smile, "I was very concerned with 'fair' at that age."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop." He didn't really want to; he'd been using it to himself as an affectionate name for her for quite some time now.

"No, I don't mind. When Nonna died, I refused to let anyone call me Dris, oh, for the longest time. I guess eventually they just got out of the habit. It…sounds nice, coming from you."

Oh. He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he said nothing. Cydris seemed to understand, for she changed the subject.

"Someone will be here soon with your lunch and then Nassim wants to see you." From her pause, Kyminn rather thought she was trying to find the line between 'Healer' and 'friend. "Do you want someone here with you for that meeting?"

He thought about that for a few minutes. "I'm…not sure. From what you and Tysen say, there's a lot of bad stuff behind that memory block. Gods know that I want my mind back, but I'm not sure what to expect. Do you really think there's a danger?"

A headshake. "I don't know. I think Nassim has a pretty good idea, but I don't. Eiven has a touch of Empathy and he's awfully worried about you."

It was a sickening idea to contemplate: that this numbness, this hollow lack of emotion, a horrid intrusion into his mind, might be the only thing keeping him from suicide.

"I think," with a deep breath, "That I'd really, really like to have a few friends around." A reluctant pause, "Can you be spared?"

"We're not expecting any casualties today, and even if we were, we'd find a way. Healers are high priority patients." It was a disquieting admission.

Lunch came and they ate together, deliberately speaking of inconsequentials. Cydris brought him up to date on the progress of the war (none), the dogs (well, and missing Kyminn), and their friends (well, worried and overworked as usual.)

They were working on some stretching exercises on Kyminn's injured leg when someone flipped the flap aside and glided into the tent.

Even though he had no recollection of having met this Healer, there was a familiarity to her presence that told him she was the Mindhealer.

"Hello Kyminn. I'm Nassim." Healer Nassim was middle aged, spare and studied in her movements. Kyminn suspected she was a projective Empath, for an odd calm settled over him as she approached.

"Stop that." Kyminn startled himself with his snappishness. Cydris looked at him in surprise.

"Stop what?" Nassim folded herself into the chair beside the bed.

"Stop projecting, stop trying to tell me what to feel." Where had this anger come from?

Nassim glanced at Cydris, and back at Kyminn. "Kyminn, I'm not projecting. I'm not an Empath. At the moment, there are only four recorded examples of the Empathic gift – Healer Eiven, Healer Crathatch, Healer Gallais and Healer Sumon. Of those, only Eiven is here and that only because his Empathy is so weak that he can tolerate this environment. The others cannot."

"Why do I feel different then when you're here, if you're not doing anything?" He was embarrassed at how peevish he sounded, but couldn't help himself.

"Probably because part of you knows that I'm responsible for the blocks on your emotions and is responding to that. The anger is because you don't like it: you're rightfully stressed and depressed and you don't feel like you have the right to express it." She leaned forward, but didn't touch him. "Kyminn, you have just found out that your life has changed radically, and not for the better. You have no idea what you are feeling, or what you _should_ be feeling. Intellectually, you realize that I suppressed your feelings, and since you would rather not face those feelings right now, you clamped them down, but blamed me. Much easier than admitting you're avoiding them."

Cydris looked like she wanted to protest, but held her tongue.

Nassim gave Kyminn a moment to respond, but accepted his silence as permission to continue.

"I'm not sure if you have much knowledge of Mindhealing, it's not all that common a Gift and isn't really part of the Healer's curriculum. Like some other Gifts – Foresight, for example – it doesn't lend itself very easily to observation. However, like all other forms of Healing, once past the 'emergency life-saving' stage of treatment, we do not proceed without the consent of the patient."

Kyminn relaxed marginally. If he'd understood that correctly, it meant the blocks were not going to be permanent. A faint, still suspicious nod was his only movement. Cydris gently squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"In order for me to describe this in a way that is meaningful to you, I'm going to ask you to tell me what it is you see and experience when you use your Healing Gift. Some describe the process as 'moving light around', others as 'building things', others use terms related to sensation, sound, or even music."

It wasn't a question he'd been expecting and he had to take a moment to think before he answered. "All my Gifts are a little different. When I'm using Animal Mindspeech, it's as though I can hear and speak a different language. Dogs speak differently than cats, birds different from horses and so on. It's like a conversation only we can hear. Sometimes it even comes as a surprise that no one around me is responding to what I'm hearing.

"Healing is different though. It's hard to describe. I just know when something isn't as it should be, and when I apply energy the right way, it suddenly feels better. If it had a flavor, it would be something that tasted bitter, and then was sweet. I can't describe it any better than that." He met Nassim's gaze, a touch of defiance in the lift of his chin.

"What you've described is a fairly common description, even down to the idea that it almost has flavor, but doesn't." Nassim nodded thoughtfully. "My own experience is quite different, but I believe I can put it in context for you.

"When you enter a Healing trance, you feel a broken bone or torn tissue as _wrongness_ , something that needs to be corrected. For a Mindhealer, we experience that sense of 'wrongness' when we encounter certain thought patterns, traumas, or forms of mental illness. To give you an example, for us, a chana-leaf addict has a very specific and visible form of mental disease. The same is true for the alcoholic, or even those addicted to overeating. Those diseases, in turn, appear differently to us than does the mind of a burn victim who cannot cope in bad weather because a high wind sounds _exactly_ like the roar of a fire. "

Kyminn thought back, remembering a storm and a traumatized Herald. He knew those kinds of invisible mental injuries were very real. He also knew that Mindhealer Crathatch had restored Randen's sanity.

"So how do you fix people then?" Some of the hostility had bled away, but caution still remained.

"We do a variety of things, just as you do. You mend bone, seal blood vessels, sew and provide potions and salves. The same is true for us. A lot of what we do is talking while much of what we do with our Gift is throw up roadblocks. If a person is engaged in a self-destructive thought process, like chewing chana-leaf, we would make it harder for the person to follow those same destructive habits. At the same time, we'd help them develop new, healthier ways of thinking and reacting. Replacing the bad with the good, much as you do."

"Is it possible for a Mindhealer to simply say, make a person not want to over indulge in spirits? Completely remove the need to drink?" Kyminn was trying to grasp the complexities of what Nassim was describing.

"Depending on the Mindhealer, yes, we could. However, barring very, very extreme circumstances, we wouldn't." Her expression was grave as she looked from Kyminn to Cydris and back again. "It would be an invasion on the same level of using Mindspeech to force someone to do something. The same is true for a Mindhealer and tampering with memory. I _could_ remove those emotion-memories but I will not, not unless there is absolutely no other choice."

"They're still there then? My memories?" Even though he'd been told they were simply blocked, he suddenly needed to hear her say it, to make it real.

"Very much so. It's my intention that, over time, they will all be restored to you. But in a controlled fashion so you can process them, cope with them, learn to live with them. Initially, you suffered a great deal of mental trauma. It was as if the mind-spirit that is Kyminn Danner had been bludgeoned and stabbed. Much of that has been restored, but if I were to simply remove all those blocks and walk away, you would be re-injured – tearing the wounds open, as it were. Those blocks are a bandage, we're not going to simply tear them off and let you bleed to death."

Much as part of him hated to admit it, he understood what the Mindhealer was saying. At the same time, he hated the 'dead' spot in his memories, hated that he couldn't feel anything about that time. "So now what?"

Nassim was very still. Kyminn got the impression she was doing…something…with her Gift. "Most people who come to us with traumas like yours are happy to have the block put up, it gives them a sense of relief from what they've been experiencing. In your case, your inability to recall what happened is working against us. You will continue to resent the block – and consequently the therapy – without a context." Nassim looked at Cydris, her tone a trifle sharp. "I am not going to apologize for shutting you down so thoroughly. I believed at the time, and continue to believe, that it was absolutely in order to save your life. However, I will not proceed with treatment without your full, informed consent. I think you need to know what you need to work on. I want to tear off the bandage and let you see the wound underneath."

His breath caught. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Control of his own mind? Why then, was he suddenly terrified?

"I will lift the blocks on your memories for a brief time. Since you have been unconscious, there is no emotional sense of time attached to your memories. It will feel for you as though it happened yesterday, because as far as you're concerned, it did. I will restore the blocks when you ask – or sooner if I sense you are taking harm. What I will not do is extend the block to today. You will remember what the pain feels like, but you won't be subject to the pain itself." She caught his glance and shook her head, "Believe me when I tell you this Kyminn, that will be enough."

Nassim nodded to Cydris and the younger woman left, returning shortly with Eiven. Kyminn was struck by the haunted air that Eiven had acquired. What had he done to his friends?

Eiven's "Hallo, Kyminn," attempted to be casual, and completely failed to hide the mix of relief and concern Eiven was feeling.

Eiven unfolded a chair and positioned it beside the bed, facing Kyminn. Cydris did the same with the chair that Nassim vacated. While Nassim took up a postion behind Kyminn, Eiven and Cydris linked arms across Kyminn's torso, folding his arms across their own bodies so as to deny Kyminn any sort of leverage. Kyminn recognized the grip – it was the one they used to restrain violent patients.

"Is this really necessary?" Fear put an unfamiliar snarl in his voice.

"Yes." Three voices answered in unison.

"Ready?" Nassim's voice floated down from behind his head while her fingers rested gently on his temples. At his nod, she began.

At first there seemed to be no change, just him lying there with a sore leg and feeling resentful and faintly silly. Soon though, he felt an unbearable sadness rise from beneath his rib cage and he gasped at the pain of it.

His mind flashed back to the moment Zayle screamed, and he screamed anew when he felt, again, that wrenching severing of _self from self_ at the moment Rosen died. Part of him recognized that this wound was un-survivable, that there was no recourse. He saw, with dreadful clarity, how desparately he had wanted, _needed_ to follow them.

He thrashed in the bed, unconsciously trying to escape this pain, this overwhelming grief.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" he choked out. "Make it stop, please!" He didn't care that he was begging, choking on his own sobs.

Like a door that shuts on a noisy room, leaving ears ringing in its wake, the pain vanished, leaving behind an aching void of recollected grief. He gasped at the sudden absence, tears flowing freely as he understood, finally, the magnitude of the tragedy. As he slumped back in his bed, Cydris and Eiven carefully released him. It didn't surprise him that his friends were weeping also.

"I'm not sure I can do this," he hated the tremulous note that appeared in his voice.

"You will. It may not seem like it now, but you will." Nassim's voice was reassuring and confident. Kyminn very much hoped that she knew what she was talking about.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

The next fortnight was focused solely on rebuilding his strength, both mental and physical. Between the physical injuries, the extensive Healings and the long time in bed, his physical energies had been tapped deeply. He learned very quickly that he had no reserves whatsoever. The simple act of getting to his feet – with assistance – was shockingly exhausting.

Nassim and Eiven, his primary Healer, jointly prescribed a series of strengthening exercises as well as enforced periods of rest. Since part of his debilitation was the result of his body providing much of the energy for his Healings, he had actually lost weight and muscle. Multiple small meals throughout the day were ordered to replenish the physical building blocks he needed.

At first, he welcomed the busyness of it all because it allowed him to avoid thinking overly much. As he began to see results and his energy returned, he found he enjoyed the work for its own sake.

Sessions with Nassim were by far the most difficult part of his recovery. Together, he and Nassim agreed on an approach to his treatment. They would tackle things chronologically, beginning with his linking with Zayle. Nassim would 'thin' the block, allowing Kyminn to experience the memory without being drawn into it. She would Heal the parts of his mind damaged by the memory while he talked, coming to understand, to put it to rest. Nassim would offer commentary, drawing out insight and encouraging him to healthier patterns of thought. When Kyminn found himself caught up in the moment of Rosen's death, the moment Zayle's _self_ shattered, Nassim pushed him to respond to that memory with the knowledge that they were no longer in pain, that he didn't need to live in that moment any longer. It was done and they were at peace. In time, he learned to let it go, but he found his thoughts returning there often.

It was brutally hard work, for as the memories became a part of him once again, he had to intentionally remember which was the appropriate context and perspective. It was too easy, in the small hours of the night, to forget, and, out of habit, follow those thoughts back into the darkness. When that happened, the gentle but implacable obstacles that Nassim had erected would bring him up short, reminding him to move back to safer paths.

At the end of the fortnight, he was back on his feet, at least for brief periods. He still needed crutches, but he welcomed the freedom of independent movement. Another welcome freedom was the fact that Nassim had judged him well enough to no longer need a watcher, a 'death-watch', as Kyminn taken to privately calling it.

He was still not strong enough to treat patients, but he was able to sit in the mess tent for a time. Finding himself at loose ends, he made himself useful by helping his friends with their mending. In short order he had acquired a rather daunting pile of torn items. Nassim encouraged him to mend during their therapy sessions, for they'd discovered that dividing Kyminn's focus meant that he was less likely to dive too deeply down his personal rabbit-hole. If the repairs were sometimes clumsy and tear-stained as a result, nobody seemed to mind.

His friends continued to visit, along with, to his surprise, Delassia. She visited only twice. The first was shortly after his first session with Nassim and Kyminn got the impression that Delassia had sought the Mindhealer's consent before visiting.

Delassia sat gingerly in the chair beside his bed, strangely uncertain of herself in the role of 'visitor'. To her credit, she attempted the obligatory small talk one makes on visiting the sick, but gave up after they exchanged a few short, stilted comments.

"Kyminn. I would have you know something." It was hard to tell if she was offering a confidence, making a pronouncement or passing judgement. Ice settled somewhere in his belly.

"You did well with the Companion Zayle. That it was impossible was no fault, no action of yours. I could have done no better. There is no shame, no blame in your actions. I would not have you think this and come to harm as a result. Do you understand?"

Ice melted and shock rolled through him. He'd always known that Delassia _felt_ deeply – that much was evident in the degree of focus she threw at everything (and everyone) in her path. Converting that depth into communication with the world around her, that was an obstacle too wearing for her to tackle day in and day out. This then, represented an extraordinary effort – and caring – on her part.

"Thank you, Delassia. It helps, very much. Thank you." He really could think of no other words that would not embarrass them both.

Almost like relief was a spring, Delassia shot from the chair, happy to set aside the unfamiliar trappings. A short, typically concise nod and she departed, throwing a last "Good then. Recover. You're needed," over her shoulder for good measure.

Her second visit was, unsurprisingly, even shorter. This time she didn't even bother to sit down. She simply _appeared_ one afternoon. Kyminn looked up from the mending to see Delassia staring at him with her usual pensive frown.

"The Mindhealer says you will recover. Is this true?"

A faint smile. Some things never changed. "I think so, yes. I'm improving, but I still have a lot of work to do."

The frown deepened, Delassia's equivalent of a pleased expression. "Good. Your loss would be a waste. I abhor waste."

Kyminn waited until he was very sure she had gone before he let himself chuckle aloud.

 _SCENE BREAK_

"Nassim…what happened to Zayle and Rosen?" Kyminn set aside the patch he was affixing to one of Tysen's shirts and looked squarely at the Mindhealer.

She looked startled for a moment, and then understood. "You mean, what happened to their remains?"

"Yes. Are they out there," a hand waved vaguely in the direction of the mass grave, "with the rest of the fallen?"

"No. Not a Herald and Companion. Not there." Nassim considered her answer for a moment. "There were a number of considerations. First, they were a Herald and Companion. Everyone felt they deserved something more than that. Second…we aren't that far from the border. You know as well as I do that the war is at a stalemate. There was concern that if the Tedrels or Karsites ever found out where they were buried…"

Kyminn finished it for her. "They would desecrate the grave. I understand." Even the citizens of Valdemar, drawn to pay their respects, would expose the location. Secrecy yes, but privacy too.

"Could you ask if I might be able to see them? I never…said goodbye."

Nassim gave that some thought. "I don't even know where the grave is. It was handled by the Heralds here and a select team of Guard. They left sometime at night and returned at night. The site could be a candlemark from here, it could be up to half a day's travel." She looked at him. "I'll make the request. Even if I didn't think it important from a Healing perspective, I agree that you should be given the chance for closure in this."

To the surprise of both, a response came back almost immediately. "Yes." Where the permission originated, they never found out, although it was entirely possible the matter had had to go before the Lord Marshall himself. More detailed instructions soon followed: Kyminn would be permitted to go, accompanied by a small team of Guardsmen as both guides and security. They would leave after dinner the following day and he was to expect to be gone at least a full day.

The time span in question meant that Kyminn would not be accompanied by either Nassim or any of his friends. Not only could they not be spared, but no one else was going to be permitted to know the location.

Nassim said nothing, but Kyminn knew she'd given the senior Guardsman very explicit instructions with regard to his condition. Still, the fact that she let him go without supervision meant that he was making measurable progress.

 _SCENE BREAK_

They left before dawn, the horses manifestly unhappy at the prospect. Perhaps the fact that it was a full moon and clear night had had an effect on the quick permission – it made the trip far more possible than were it moon-dark.

Kyminn was still not up to riding for any distance, so they brought along the smallest wagon they could find. In addition to Kyminn, it carried some provisions and gear. Kyminn offered to do part of the driving, although it felt strange at first to rely on reins alone. He missed being able to use his Gifts, but had to admit that he rather enjoyed the respite from his Foresight.

It was a quiet journey, each absorbed with their own thoughts. The hot summer sun and birdsong seemed appropriately peaceful, given the nature of their journey. Eventually, the Guardsman driver broke the silence.

"Not too far now, Healer. We'll not be taking the wagon in this time, less of a track that way. You're alright to ride pillion for a bit though?"

"Yes, I can manage. Thank you." Kyminn looked around. They'd moved into one of the sheltered valleys in this part of Valdemar and in the distance, he could see a line of trees marking a watercourse. "How did they choose the location, do you know?"

"They told us the Heralds chose it. There were four Heralds and the dozen of us. Two of the Heralds let their Companions be hooked to the bier and they drew their fellow. Their Heralds rode pillion with the others. We had spare horses with us for the return journey, as they said they wouldn't ask their Companions to draw the wagon back."

Personally, Kyminn was surprised that the Companions had been willing to pull the wagon in the first place. On second thought, maybe not, Companions had their own reasons for doing things.

They pulled the wagon into a little copse off the track and picketed the horses. Two of the Guard remained behind, the other three accompanied Kyminn. He wasn't particularly surprised to find they were making their way towards the water course he'd noted earlier.

It was perfect. A small stream cut away from the river they could see in the distance, forming a little meadow as it curled over the rocks. A tumble of stones, broken away from a rise of granite, formed a sentry at one end.

"We're here, Healer." The sergeant's voice was quiet, respectful. "The Herald told us where to dig, told us there'd be a space between two large stones. We tossed the spoil into the river, save for that we kept for closing them in.

"I don't know how she knew, but she was right. We took care of them properly, buried them together. When they were laid there, the other Herald had us dig, and push over one of the standing stones. It rested on its fellow, and made a little place for them, one where no one can ever disturb them. Then we filled it in, taking care to put back the sod we'd cut. It's over this way."

The Guardsman led Kyminn to the standing stones, kneeling to place his palm gently on the ground before them. "They're here, Healer. Resting." He rose and the trio stepped back, giving Kyminn some privacy.

There was no marker, save the white and blue wildflowers that carpeted the meadow. Something told Kyminn their presence was one of the reasons the Heralds had chosen this place. Valdemar herself would be their marker. He reached into his pocket and gently, with focused reverence, unfolded a small packet. It contained a tiny braid of white. Over the years, he'd received some treasured gifts from the Companions he'd encountered and this, his grave offering to Rosen and Zayle, was part of that. A small braided strand of white: Derris, Niko, Jareth. He'd teased strands from gifts given by his friends and twisted them together for Zayle and her Chosen. He gently bent a blue and white wildflower together, binding them with the braid. It wouldn't last beyond the first stiff breeze, but it wasn't meant to.

His tears this time weren't the deep grief of days past. These were cleaner, more honest. He knew better than to believe this was the end of his journey, but now his heart was a little bit lighter.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

A hot summer afternoon, and after a morning spent moving gear, a perfect time for a nap. The war was in a holding phase at present – there had been no casualties for ten days now. Even the wards were empty, all the wounded either discharged or sent elsewhere to recuperate. Kyminn was more than willing to take advantage of the quiet.

 _"…_ _still worried about him, whatever Nassim says."_

Cydris's voice came clearly through the canvas wall of the tent as she and Eiven paused in the shade it offered.

 _"_ _Nassim says he's doing well. We agreed his channels are healed now. Nassim took the blocks off a couple of days ago." Eiven sounded pleased with Kyminn's success._

It had been a tremendous relief to get his Gifts back, a part of himself restored.

 _"_ _I know, and I know he's making good progress on his other injuries. It's just…" a hesitation, "He seems different, somehow. How sure are you that Nassim is finding all the damage in his mind?"_

 _"_ _Cydris, you know as well as I do that recovering from something like that takes more than a few sennights. It's been barely a moon since he woke up. It's going to take time."_

 _"_ _I know that," Cydris snapped. "I can see how far he's come and some places where it's going to take longer. I'm talking about something else. He's not the same person as he was before."_

 _Eiven took a moment to reply. "I'm not trying to dismiss what you're saying. I've seen it too, and you're not the only person to have mentioned it. Nassim and I have talked about it at length. She feels that it may be permanent. Many people change after traumatic events. The effect may lessen over time."_

 _"_ _No Eiven, it's more than that."_ Kyminn could hear the frustration in her voice. " _I see him every day, Eiven, and I'm telling you there's something deeper here. You don't see him staring off into nothing when he thinks no one is looking. He's struggling with treating patients and it's not that his leg isn't strong enough. He says that's what the problem is, but…he's fragile, Eiven. Not in a dangerous way, but he can't handle being around people in pain anymore. He hides it, but after a couple of candlemarks it overwhelms him. And another thing – he can't stand being alone. He used to enjoy slipping away for a few moments of quiet, especially in the mornings. He doesn't do that anymore. He heads straight for where people are and stays there. He's even talking about moving into a tent with more people. He says it's so that Avi and Betra can have his and Avi's tent, but I think it's that he wants more people around. I'm worried Eiven, something's not right."_

 _"_ _Nassim says that the Mindhealing is complete. She's aware of the changes and she's not worried, but she wants to send him back to Haven with the next group of wounded. She wants him to finish his recovery somewhere away from all this. He needs time, and space, and he's not going to find that here. As for the rest,"_ Kyminn could hear Eiven shift position, and the voices faded as they moved away. _"_ _Nassim says that in many ways, it's though he's a Herald who lost his Companion."_

"Actually," Kyminn thought to himself before sleep claimed him, "I'm more like a Companion who's lost his Herald."

 _SCENE BREAK_

A bare few days later, Kyminn found himself on a wagon bound for Haven and other points northward. When the next wave of wounded rolled in, he'd tried to continue his work as a Healer, but Cydris had been right – he could no longer endure being around those in pain. He found it particularly difficult when dealing with the grief of survivors, finding it impossible to maintain anything like a clinical detachment. Finally, regretfully, Nassim decreed that he return to Haven for rest and additional Mindhealing.

Leaving the war behind was easy. Far, far more difficult was leaving behind his friends and the dogs. The dogs were simply too useful to send back simply to keep him company. In the end, the dogs belonged to the crown, and the crown needed them right where they were.

Vik was actually a bit easier to let go. Kyminn had long since agreed the clever-footed little gelding could serve as a scout remount if need be. Like the dogs, the trained warhorse was too valuable an asset to serve the preference of a single injured Healer. So seldom had Kyminn seen Vik of late that formally surrendering the horse wasn't nearly the loss it might once have been.

The dogs though, were a different matter. Kyminn did his best to explain to the simple minds that he was leaving and they would be staying with Cydris now. The dogs didn't mind that part – they adored Cydris. As for the rest, they simply trusted Kyminn when he said everything would be alright.

Kyminn felt like he'd spent days going over the dogs' routines with Cydris: who didn't care to have their nails trimmed (Raff) and who was ticklish behind the front legs (Bull.) Feeding, snacks, grooming, care of their gear, favourite toys…he went over it all. Repeatedly.

Cydris, gods bless her, endured it all without complaint. For Kyminn, talking about Tip's dental hygiene was easier than talking about the very real possibility that neither of them knew when their paths would cross again. By the time he climbed onto the wagon, Kyminn had managed to sink into a profound funk. Not helping matters was the fact that part of him wished very much that he'd kissed Cydris goodbye.

 _SCENE BREAK_

The journey to Haven was oddly nostalgic, a month on the summer roads, complete with wagons, horses, and campfires. Kyminn was far from the only passenger; the wagons carried a number of wounded who were being transferred to various houses of healing for rehabilitation. Although some of these patients were experiencing the depression expected of someone who has suffered catastrophic wounds, they were not in the raw agony of the newly stricken. This matured pain was something Kyminn found he was more able to tolerate. For the duration of the journey, he made himself useful, practicing his craft and helping with the horses. Between the long candlemarks seated in the wagon and diligent exercise, by the time the group reached Haven, Kyminn was able to get around quite ably with his cane.

His mental healing, unfortunately, hadn't kept pace with the physical. He was increasingly unable to be alone without feeling as though he was about to panic. He reviewed his thought-exercises and Nassim's lessons until he was exhausted, but saw no improvement. He repeatedly ran through the mental assessment she'd shown him, searching for signs of depression, guilt, or other forms of unbalance. He found nothing, but he still didn't feel any better. It frightened him more than he cared to admit that Nassim had been unable to find a reason for what he was experiencing. Maybe someone at Healers would have the answers he needed.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Kyminn had put on his best set of greens for the meeting, but that wasn't saying much. He figured that if Dean Tannel wasn't prepared to accept the wear and tear that a war put on one's wardrobe, then the odds of them being able to meaningfully communicate were slight.

"Kyminn!" There was genuine warmth in the Dean's greeting. The head of the Healer's Circle had aged a good deal in the intervening years, but clearly the man himself was the same.

The dean held Kyminn at arm's length, regarding the younger man appraisingly. "Kyminn, you've looked better. But I think we can help you with that, yes?"

Shoulders sagged a bit in relief and Kyminn took the proffered chair. "I hope so." He took a bracing breath, "You know what happened?"

"I do." There was a note of profound sympathy in the words. "I've gotten reports of your treatment, but only up until the time you left. I take it there have been developments?"

A nod. "Some. My leg continues to improve. I can stand and even walk a few paces, but I'm trying very hard to use the cane and follow through with the exercises. As for Zayle's memories…I think Nassim and I worked through those. It's never, ever going to go away, but I can go days now without remembering and thinking about it. I think that counts as progress."

"I do, and you're correct. There's no 'right way' to move through grief, especially something like this. Some days, everything will reminds a person. Other days, one feels nearly normal – and then feels guilty for feeling like that."

A wry grunt of agreement. "I'm pretty sure that's a direct quote from the lectures you give the Fifth Years when they start dealing directly with bereaved families."

"Just because it's been said for decades doesn't make it any less true," the Dean observed mildly.

"I know." Kyminn sighed. "Gods know I've said the exact same thing a lot in the past three years."

The Dean of Healers leaned back and looked at the young man sitting across from him, examining Kyminn with both eyes and Gift. What he saw was troubling. Kyminn's tan skin concealed what would otherwise have been a concerning pallor. It didn't hide the closed, strained expression in the green eyes, and the Dean's gift told him that this young man, while apparently healthy, bore a sudden _wrongness_ about him. Not an evil – the Dean was quite sure every Companion in the city would have been pounding down the door had something truly _evil_ entered the palace grounds – but something _not right._ It wasn't sickness, it was something else. His inability to put a name to it was troubling.

"Well?" Kyminn's question was dry. Clearly, he was quite aware of the Dean's inspection, and equally clearly, he was unoffended.

A slow shake of the Dean's head. "To all the normal tests, you're perfectly fine. I'm not a Mindhealer, and if Nassim says there's no damage she can see, I believe her." A hand to forestall comment. "However, it's clear that there is something going on. Whether it's simply a…change…to your psyche as a result of your experience or something else, that I can't say. That doesn't mean we aren't taking it seriously. I'm going to arrange for you to spend some time with Crathach and some of the Gift teachers. They may be able to see something that others cannot."

"Thank you. It's been…an adjustment," Kyminn admitted, grateful for the Dean's understanding.

"No thanks needed. You're injured. We're Healers. Kind of goes together, don't you think? Now then, housing," the Dean moved the conversation onto less fraught ground. "There's no need for you to be admitted but I'd like you to stay close by. I've arranged for you to stay in the same guest building from your first visit here. Do you remember the place?"

Kyminn remembered the guest rooms very well. An old shed, destined for demolition, had been found to be not only sound, but masterfully constructed. It had been converted to guest rooms by King Sendar's father. It was usually used for visiting instructors and Kyminn had found the two-room suite decidedly intimidating to his small-town upbringing. Now though, thinking of the spacious, lonely rooms made his blood chill. The notion of being alone was suddenly terrifying.

"Dean Tannel, I noticed there are still students here. I thought the Collegia usually took a break over the summer." Kyminn hoped the Dean hadn't noticed how pale he'd become.

Tannel blinked at the apparent shift in direction. Noting the young Healer's expression, the Dean answered, wondering where Kyminn was leading. "Normally, yes. I forget you've been gone for quite some time now. Both Healers and Heralds cancelled summer break two years ago. The need was simply too great. Bardic could have opted to keep the old schedule, but they decided to keep the same schedule as the other two. To give Bardic credit, they have worked very hard keeping people informed about what's going on and making sure support doesn't flag. Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to stay there, if that's alright. A spare room in the senior student's wing maybe?"

Dean Tannel didn't bother to hide his surprise. "It's possible, but why?"

Kyminn looked down at his hands, twisting restlessly in his lap. "I just…I'm not good with being alone. I can't explain it – no one can. It's one of the reasons I need Healer's help."

The Dean chewed his lower lip in thought. Finally, he said, "I don't actually have room in the senior's wing right now. We just finished moving some students up. To be honest, the place where I've got space for you is with the First Years." The Dean's tone was dry, "If you're looking for peace and quiet, the First Year's wing is NOT the place for you."

Relief washed through Kyminn and he brightened. "Actually sir, that would be perfect. I don't mind noise, it reminds me I'm not alone."

A thoughtful nod. "I think this may work out better than you know. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but historically, the Gifted tend to find their way to us in greater number in times of the greatest need. That's held true for both Heralds and Healers. We have a number of new students who are younger than we'd usually see and some of them are having a hard time with homesickness. If you would be willing to stand in as big brother to a few lonely youngsters….?"

"Gladly." Kyminn smiled for the first time since he'd arrived in Haven.

"Well then. Welcome to the First Year wing, Healer Kyminn."


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Some things never changed. The room was small and tidy, but maintained a slightly shabby air. The bed (a bed!) had a freshly stuffed mattress, but the frame showed the knocks and dings of long use. It wasn't 'home', exactly – Kyminn had slept in far too many places in the past five years to think of anywhere as 'home', but it came comfortably close.

Five years on the road had left him with little to unpack and an urgent need to obtain new uniforms. His feet remembered the way and he shortly found himself better dressed than he had been for quite some time. He turned his formal Greens over to the Housekeeper for mending and a proper cleaning. He'd seldom had occasion to wear them, but the moons of travel had not been kind to the expensive fabrics. As he handed them over, he wondered when he'd get the chance to wear them again. For some reason, he didn't see himself being sent out on the levy this year.

Domestic chores, which included an extremely indulgent bath, took up the remainder of his day. By the time the dinner bell tolled, he was more than ready to brave the dining room. It turned out to be fairly simple to slip one more green-clad form into the choreographed chaos of the hall. Even his limping gait and cane drew no notice in the bustle. Kyminn found himself at one end of a table, wedged beside a group of very earnest senior Bardic students. The trainees were courteous enough, but soon became engaged in an intense discussion about a whether or not a particular composer should be considered derivative, inspired variations on a theme, or merely a plagiarizing hack. Kyminn listened with half an ear, the rest of his attention on the room around him. It had been a very long time since he'd been in the company of people for whom the war was _not_ at the forefront of their thoughts and the change was a little jarring. He simply let the comfortable babble of _presence_ of others wash over him while he concentrated on enjoying his dinner.

 _SCENE BREAK_

In the course of the next day, Kyminn learned that there were presently sixteen First Year Trainees. They ranged in age from 14 years down to a girl of only nine. He had yet to meet any of them, although he'd seen a cloud of Trainee green moving from breakfast into the classrooms. He'd heard them quite easily – sixteen youngsters are a collective unto themselves. He found the near-constant murmur of voices and footsteps to and from the lavatory helped mask the odd hollowness within.

The idea of a nine year old child being subjected to the brutal rigors of the Healer's calling left Kyminn feeling somewhat disquieted. Being country-bred himself, he was well aware that the hard work of survival often meant a youngster had a tool in his or her hand as soon as they could hold one. Even littles of three or four were capable of filling a basket with berries, or with weeds pulled by older siblings. Just the same, the Collegium was different, which was as it should be. Here, there was no need to subject someone so young to the degree of effort and scholarship that the program required. Why, even the hall-boys and pages enjoyed a well-thought-out balance of work, study, and recreation. Surely the crown could do the same for a Gifted child!

Unfortunately, his attempts to track down the student and check on her well-being met with little initial success. Equally frustrating was that this lack of success was reflected by the sessions with Kyminn's own Healers.

Everyone he encountered agreed that yes, he was completely recovered from his shovel-induced head injury, aside from the rather dramatic scar that resulted. Further discussions allowed that yes, his broken leg and shattered knee had been very competently repaired and there was little more that could be done aside from reminding him to please be diligent in his exercises.

It was at that point that consensus stopped. Empaths, a Mindhealer and assorted other Healers with experience in mental traumas all examined him. All agreed that there was something distinctly _not usual_ going on, but even that august group was unable to make a definitive diagnosis. All agreed that Kyminn was experiencing various levels of grief, stress, depression, and battle-fatigue. Fortunately for Kyminn's fraying patience, no one tried to belabor the obvious with respect to those points.

Mindhealer Crathach was eventually elected spokesperson for the group of examiners. "Kyminn, I'm quite sure you know what I'm about to say, but I want to make sure we aren't missing anything. For most of what's going on… given what happened and where you've been for the past three years, frankly we all think you're holding up remarkably well. Mentally speaking, you're very healthy and have excellent coping mechanisms. However…"

"Yes. It's the 'however' that's the problem." It was dry, with a brittle, bitter undertone to it.

Crathach cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. As you know, we tried to explore this new anxiety of yours, this reluctance to be alone."

Of course Kyminn remembered. The word 'disaster' had been used freely with respect to that little experiment. Oh, on the face of it, the notion had been reasonable, and had Kyminn been on the other side of the bed, (so to speak) he'd probably have done the same thing. The idea was straightforward – Kyminn, along with the consulting Healers, would gather in a shielded room. All the Healers would link with each other and then, as a group, with Kyminn.

The first part had been easy; 'profoundly normal', as one Healer put it. Then, one at a time, the Healers withdrew from the room, but retained the link. As the last person left, Kyminn began to feel a trifle uneasy, but the sensation did not progress beyond that point. As the Healers dropped out of the link one by one, though, his anxiety grew. By the time the last Healer released the link, Kyminn was in a near panic. Pacing, sweating, breath coming in gasps – all he could describe later was a sense of dread, a profound 'wrongness' and a need to escape, to find someone.

As the Healers re-examined their sobbing, trembling patient, they admitted they were baffled. There was, as before, no injury – visible or otherwise to his psyche. He was, to all appearances, as sane as he'd been a candlemark before. The other Healers were adamant that nothing detectable had occurred, neither mental illness from within nor attack from without.

Kyminn reluctantly agreed to a second trial, this time with multiple shields. That attempt was stopped abruptly when it became evident that the result was going to be exactly the same, if not even worse. Kyminn, with Crathach's firm endorsement, forbade further experimentation along those lines.

The ensuing discussion had tossed around various theories of depression, psychosis, paranoia and even schizophrenia. In the end though, one and all admitted that they had no real ideas. Crathach at least, was adamant. "Kyminn, while we don't know what's happening, we know this is very, very real and having a very real effect on you. We are not going to give up and we _will_ figure this out. You are not going to be abandoned, but we will have to ask for your patience while we work on this."

It was far from a satisfactory answer, but – for now at least – it seemed like it was the best he was going to get.

 _SCENE BREAK_

While the consultant Healers buried themselves in records, analyses and case studies, Kyminn turned his attention to the First Years. Like most groups of Trainees, there were individual clusters of friendships and like-minded personalities, but the class maintained an inherent internal cohesion. Even the more introverted of the group were included, usually by means of a glance or small gesture that invited, but didn't demand.

Eventually, by dint of unabashed eavesdropping and the process of elimination, he managed to sort out names and personalities. He was unsurprised to discover that his quarry was by far the quietest one of the group, although her height initially misled Kyminn into thinking she was one of the older students. It was when she finally spoke that he began to understand not only her reticence, but the oddly gentle paternalism of her year-mates. A meeting with Dean Tannel was clearly in order that, and sooner rather than later.

"Dean Tannel?" Kyminn tapped diffidently on the door frame.

"You don't have to call me by my title when you're just stopping by. You're hardly a student anymore Kyminn." The Dean waved Kyminn to a chair.

Kyminn gave a faint, embarrassed shrug. "Habit, I suppose. It seems I have no problem facing down angry Lords and Guard Commanders, but I can't shake the habit of deference when it comes to the Collegium." A twist of grin. "I'm sure there're some people who would recommend you encourage that, especially with respect to fellows like me."

A matching grin. "And I'm just as sure that you will be as frank and obstreperous as you feel necessary. Knowing when to be assertive and when to be discreet is something we try to develop in our Trainees. In your case though, we had rather a lot to work with on that score." The Dean cocked his head at Kyminn, the grin mellowing into something more somber. "Be that as it may, you are not the sort to come just to bandy words. What brings you, then?"

"Trainee Renya." As the Dean had noted, Kyminn was quite capable of been direct when required. "Two things. First, isn't she a bit young to be in full time studies and second, did you know that she's from southern Valdemar?"

The Dean's pause was long enough for Kyminn to register – and regret – the implied disrespect in the questions. The Dean waited just long enough to acknowledge Kyminn's apologetic nod before answering. "To answer your questions, yes, she is. And no, she's not in full time studies. She has morning classes, a reduced schedule of chores and her afternoons are largely her own. The intent was that she spend the time with the other younglings – the pages and the like. Her Gifts emerged very early, and under very difficult circumstances. At the moment, aside from learning to control her Gifts, her classes consist only of the fundamentals of reading, writing, and mathematics."

"She's from the borderlands, isn't she?" It wasn't really a question; Kyminn had recognized the distinctive rolling drawl as soon as the girl spoke.

The Dean's sigh was heavy with pain. "She is. She and five other youngsters were the only survivors when the Tedrels attacked their village. The other children are being fostered by relatives, but we haven't yet located any other family of Renya's."

What the Dean didn't have to add was that it was unlikely in the extreme that they would. People tended to marry within their own communities, or at most, find a spouse in the closest market-town. There simply wasn't reason – or time – to look further afield. While the practice did make things a bit insular, it also meant that kith and kin were never far away. In cases like Renya's, it also meant that one disaster could wipe out entire extended families.

"You were saying something about her Gifts. Triggered by the attack?" Kyminn's voice was bleak. His own Gifts had revealed themselves in a fairly traumatic manner when his Foresight had caused him to experience the annual swine slaughter – from the perspective of the swine. He could imagine how much worse it would be to have a Healing Gift emerge while one's family was being murdered.

"Indeed. Fortunately, the children had been sent into hiding, so they didn't witness the worst of it. When the Guard found the children, they assumed that Renya's hysterics were due to the circumstances. It was only when she Healed one of the Guardsmen that they realized what was happening.

"The children were first sent to one of the Temples as evacuees. They were there for a fortnight or so while the priests tried to get them placed. One of the Healers was enough of a Gift teacher that she was able to shield Renya and help her understand what was happening. They kept her there as long as they could, but when the last of the other village children were claimed, the Temple sent her here. She arrived a few days before you did."

"I see," and Kyminn did. Her story explained not only the careful protectiveness of her Year-Mates, but also her reticence. Although the war was evident in the number of severely wounded patients, the shortage of certain goods and the constant call for recruits, little else about it had affected the capital. For most, life went on as before, albeit under slightly straitened conditions. Poor Renya must feel like she'd been sent to an entirely different world! No wonder she had little to say to her Year-mates!

The Dean tapped the table to reclaim Kyminn's wandering attention. When he had it, the Dean spoke up. "What concerns me most though, is what you said about Renya's classes. While many border children are distinctly un-childlike, and while I certainly don't think a few games of tag are going to make everything better for her, I did intend that having unstructured time, spent with others of the same age, might give her some space to regain her equilibrium. If she's not with the others, just where is she during those times?"

"I believe, sir, that that I'd very much like to find out."


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

 _A/N In typical Kyminn fashion, he's taken my carefully thought out story and dumped it on its ear._

The first step was to find out for certain where Renya was not. A few enquiries led him to the Master of Pages, a member of the Steward's staff. That worthy proved to be an intelligent, if somewhat stern fellow who apparently had an encyclopedic knowledge of his charges. When Kyminn inquired about Renya, the fellow's confusion was genuine.

"I'm sorry, Healer, but I've had no information regarding a Healer Trainee." The man indicated the neat stacks of records, lists, and schedules. "But I'm concerned that, apparently, I should have. The last to join my rolls came some sennights ago, a distant cousin of Lord Peregrine's."

At the man's invitation, Kyminn assisted him in reviewing the admittedly very well kept files. There was no mention of Renya or any other Trainee. The closest they came was some correspondence from early the previous winter, asking if the Master of Pages would be able to make room for approximately half a dozen displaced youngsters. Those, the Master assured him, were all accounted for.

"Two of the lads went as stable boys and one to the kitchen. One of the girls was from a minor noble line and she went into service as a lady's under-maid. Of the others, one lad is a page and the other two girls were bookish, so they are helping the scribes. I'm sorry Healer, but that's all the information I have." The man was genuinely apologetic.

"It's not your fault. It's clear to me that you have the best interests of the children in mind and that you keep very careful track of their placement and well-being." Kyminn paused, mulling things over for a few moments. "I hesitate to ascribe to malice what could simply be a case of misdelivered correspondence, and frankly, I can't see how anyone would benefit from sabotaging one Healer Trainee. She hasn't any rank or wealth, so it's hardly as though someone would gain from this."

The Master of Pages looked as though he'd bitten something unpleasant. "With all respect Healer, that may very well be the point." The admission was reluctant. At Kyminn's nod, the man went on. "The war has brought a lot of broken families and displaced people into the capital. It's provided opportunities for some of the less savory sorts of businesses to flourish. You did say she was quite young."

Kyminn felt ill, but a part of him wasn't surprised at the suggestion. The war had forced many people to do things they would previously have considered unthinkable, and those willing to prey on the vulnerable were growing fat as a result.

"Thank you," Kyminn's gratitude was genuine. "I'm more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this. I would very much appreciate it if you could ask your pages and other youngsters to keep an ear open for anything along those lines. You could bring it to me, or better yet, the nearest Herald. As for Renya, if anyone knows anything, I'd appreciate your passing it on to me as soon as possible."

"Of course, Healer."

 _SCENE BREAK_

The meeting had left Kyminn feeling decidedly unquiet. As it was still well before the noon bell, Renya was, at least for the time being, securely accounted for. An amble past her classroom had confirmed that yes, she was presently immersed in her lessons. From previous experience, Kyminn knew that she'd eat lunch with the rest of her year and then follow the group to their afternoon classes. It was at this point that she tended to disappear. Until his conversation with the Dean, Kyminn had thought she was attending more classes, leading to concerns about overwhelming the young Trainee. Thus far, he knew only where she was not: in class, or with the pages. It was distinctly frustrating. In fact, it…

"Kyminn!" The shout took Kyminn completely by surprise and he jumped, giving an undignified yelp of startlement.

"We didn't know you were back!" White clad arms grabbed Kyminn in a rough embrace before Randen pulled back to beam at his old friend. "What brings you here?"

Kyminn disentangled himself, a genuine smile on his face. Before he could speak, Randen glanced down at the cane and Kyminn's uneven stance. "Good gods, Kym, what happened? Are you alright?"

A cascade of feelings washed through Kyminn as he tried to answer the question. "I'm getting there. Full recovery is going to take a while though." It seemed the least complicated response.

"Well, Derris is going to want to see you." Randen grinned. "I think he rather approves of you, you know."

A snort. "Surprising, all things considered." Kyminn kept his tone even, ignoring the cold spreading through his limbs.

"He's asleep at the moment. We got in late last night and he's exhausted. I'll tell you what – how about we get together for dinner, just the three of us? I'll arrange something picnic-y. Sound good?"

Derris. A Companion, impaled and bleeding.

Derris. Body splayed out in front of Kyminn, hot blood flowing across Kyminn's hands.

Derris in the thunderous darkness, rearing, screaming, lashing out.

 _Sapphire shattering in the black. A white figure out of reach._

Kyminn gasped and staggered, choking back a cry of horror.

Strong hands grabbed him, steadied him. "Kyminn! Are you alright?"

A jerky nod. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just my leg." A lie. "It gives way on me sometimes. I'll be alright. Tonight sounds fine, thank you." And on that note, Kyminn turned and fled.

 _SCENE BREAK_

It took over a candlemark for his hands to stop shaking. He paced his little room, fighting to calm himself and regain his composure. Breathing exercises led to 'ground and center,' which in turn led to the thought exercises he'd learned from Nassim. The flashback had been as unexpected as it was unwelcome and part of him regretted agreeing to dinner. He drew in a deep breath. He could cope.

His unhappy musings were broken by the lunch bell. Although his appetite seemed to have fled along with his courage, he found himself craving the familiar chaos of the dining hall. Slipping into the stream of Scarlet and rust, Green and pale green, White and grey reminded him of his resolution to track down Renya. With that in mind, he took care to find a seat where he could watch unobtrusively and follow discreetly.

Renya, as was her habit, ate with her year-mates, quietly focused on her food and letting the conversation flow around her. She spoke only when addressed directly, her answers brief and polite. She rose with the others, helping clear the dirty dishes and following along behind them as they made their way back to the classroom wing.

Kyminn watched her enter, one other small form in a multi-hued crowd. Convinced that she was slipping off somewhere, he remained outside, waiting for her to emerge. To aid his endeavors, he 'borrowed' the eyes of nearby sparrows, skipping from bird to bird as he watched the periphery of the building. For a full half-glass he waited, an indolent figure resting against a tree while his inner vision moved from door, to window, to door and back again. When she failed to emerge, he let out a pleased "Hah!" under his breath. Finally, at least part of an answer. Whatever Renya was doing, it was happening here at the Collegium, in the classroom wing.

The easiest explanation, of course, was that she had tucked herself away in an empty classroom and was simply biding her time until she was required elsewhere. In that case, she should be fairly easy to find. With a pleased confidence, Kyminn began his search. Even with his limp, he could move fairly quickly and quietly. His searches of the empty classrooms were patient and thorough, checking storage cabinets, on top of shelves, behind every piece of furniture that might conceivably conceal a small child. Two rooms into his search, the bell rang and the corridors filled once again with chattering students.

The students jostling their way into the room he was exiting looked at him questioningly, but aside from a few polite murmurs of "Excuse me, Healer," said nothing. Watching the previously empty room fill up gave him a pause. Classes moved and changed constantly as the bells tolled. Trainees came and went depending on their own duties and training requirements. Given what the Dean had said about the recent influx of new Trainees, it was extremely unlikely that Renya would have found a classroom that was empty for an entire afternoon.

It was, he supposed, possible that she moved with the classes did, shifting from empty space to empty space as the afternoon progressed. Something about that didn't feel quite right, but Kyminn was resolved not to make any assumptions. As soon as the halls emptied, he resumed his search.

By the time the warning bell for dinner bell rang, he was not only hungry, but deeply puzzled. He'd searched every empty classroom and unused space he could find, and aside from a harried Bard rushing late to teach a class, had seen nothing unusual. Storage spaces, the room of cleaning supplies – even the jakes proved empty of stray Healer Trainees. His confusion only grew as he watched her class emerge for dinner, Renya slipping quietly into their midst. Where had she been?

He wanted, very badly, to simply ask her what was going on, but refrained. Clearly, she – or someone else – had gone to a good deal of effort to keep Renya out of sight. If it were Renya herself, intruding could serve to distress the child badly. If it were someone else, making his presence known could put her at risk. He wanted to bite something, so frustrated was he by the general lack of progress in his life at present.

The second dinner bell rang, bringing him back to the present and reminding him of his own dinner plans. Unsettled and aggrieved, he began to make his slow way over to the Companion's stable. As he rounded the corner of the palace, he let himself look, for the first time since his arrival, at the green expanse of Companion's Field.

It was, as always, like something from a bard's tale. A meticulous swath of green, dotted with copses and dells that stretched away into the distance. Even in the worst of weather, the Field always seemed brighter and greener than the surrounding gardens. White forms seemed artfully arranged throughout the scene, most basking in the late summer sun while others clustered together, looking like a group of friends enjoying a good gossip. It was beautiful.

It was idyllic.

It was terrifying.

 _SCENE BREAK_

Randen finished setting out dinner and felt pleased. He'd remembered Kyminn's fondness for soft cheeses and tart apples and had managed to coax the kitchen into providing a generous portion of both. Cold spiced chicken, vegetables in a tangy sauce, fresh bread and a good wine were only a few of the goodies that had emerged from the groaning basket. Derris, in particular, had his eye on the still-warm fruit pies and some apple-oat tarts that might have been invented with Companions in mind.

"Excuse me sir, but would you be Herald Randen?" The page paused at the edge of the clearing and gave a polite bow.

"I am indeed. What can I do for you?" Randen looked up from the picnic.

"Begging your pardon, Herald sir, but Healer Kyminn sends his respects. He says to tell you that something has come up and he won't be available to meet you today. He sends his apologies and says he'll reschedule as soon as he's able."

"Thank you, I appreciate the message." Randen smiled as the page bowed again and took himself back to the palace at a trot.

"Well, that's disappointing." Randen surveyed the picnic ruefully.

 _:Indeed. I was rather looking forward to seeing him.:_ Derris looked from the oat tarts and back to his Chosen. _:I don't suppose…:_ The mental voice was wheedling.

Randen laughed. "I think I could be persuaded." He offered the Companion two of the small sweets. "Well?"

 _:Hmmm. I'm not sure how they compare to fruit pastries. I may have to try several samples of each in order to make an informed choice.:_

Another laugh. "Why am I not surprised?" As he offered the Companion one of the fruit pies, Randen hoped that whatever had delayed Kyminn wouldn't prove to be serious.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

That Kyminn failed to mention the previous night's panic during his morning session with Crathach was not an oversight. Given the sustained lack of progress with respect to his recovery, Kyminn was loath to admit this new wrinkle. Thus far, the only means they had found to prevent the attacks was to block his Gifts.

That had not been a pleasant session. The Healers had briefly blocked his Gifts as part of a larger attempt at a new treatment, but to everyone's distressed shock, the fear had failed to manifest so long as Kyminn's Gifts were blocked. Kyminn's response to the unvoiced suggestion of this as an option had been explosive and absolute. He was fully prepared to live with his condition rather than lose that part of himself.

It was for this reason that he'd kept this latest discovery to himself. Whether his newfound inability to be near Heralds and Companions was a further development or merely the unearthing of an existing problem was irrelevant. He had an ugly suspicion that either way, it would add weight to the suggestion his Gifts were somehow causing him harm.

If Kyminn was diligent yet terse during the session, Crathach made no comment. Like the attempts before, this one proved equally fruitless and the Healers were as disgruntled as Kyminn at the outcome. No one complained when his farewells were short and his exit rapid.

Determined to mark at least some success in his life, Kyminn had decided on his next steps with respect to Renya. It was time to start asking her some very carefully thought out questions. Thus it was that he made his way directly from his own treatment to the classroom wing, where the bell found him waiting patiently outside her classroom. If he leaned a bit more heavily on his cane so as to convey a non-threatening demeanor well, whatever was needed to put the child at ease.

"Excuse me, Trainee Renya Baden?" He kept his tone, easy, polite.

She stopped and, interestingly enough, the other Healer Trainees from the class stopped with her. The others waited at a polite distance, but still well within earshot. Their demeanor was gratifyingly protective.

"Yes Healer?" Her voice was clear, if quiet. There was no sense of beaten down or submissiveness to it, which came as a relief to Kyminn's ears.

A warm, but not overly friendly smile. "My name is Healer Kyminn Danner. Dean Tannel has asked me to see how you're doing. The Collegium can be difficult at first and he wants to make sure you're getting on all right."

"Are you an instructor, sir?" This was from one of the bystanders, an older Trainee who, by his speech, was one of the fisher-folk. That bit of background explained why someone of his age was in the basic Reading class. There was a hint of suspicion and warning in the youth's tone.

"I am not, no. I am actually a patient here." Kyminn opted to ignore the implied message to desist.

There was an uneasy shuffling of feet from amongst the watchers, but no comment.

Renya finally raised her gaze enough to meet Kyminn's. He kept his expression bland and gentle as he added, "I was hurt while working on the southern border, with the Guard."

A flicker of pain on the child's face and a small nod of understanding. Behind her, the group relaxed, as though releasing their collective breath. Kyminn was not a threat to their friend. He was a victim, not a foe.

"If I've read your schedule correctly, you have no classes after lunch. I thought we might meet here, in one of the empty classrooms." And, he didn't add, in a familiar, very public environment.

"Yes, Healer, I'll be there." Her voice held only the cautious curiosity one would expect of a child asked to an unexpected meeting with an adult. Not for the first time, Kyminn wished his Empathy extended to humans. He dearly wished he knew what was really going on with her. Hopefully, finally, he'd get some answers.

 _SCENE BREAK_

At the noon meal, Kyminn took care to sit within clear sight of Renya and her friends. He angled himself so that they could clearly observe him, but not such that they would feel observed in turn. His interactions with those at his table (yet another group of Bards) were convivial and perfectly normal. In short, he did everything within his power to appear perfectly harmless.

As the afternoon classes began, Kyminn waited patiently within the classroom wing. He'd opted to not stand just by the door – that felt just a tad too much like an ambush. Instead, he was a short distance down the hall. To his pleased relief, Renya arrived with her group, no sign of concern in her demeanor.

"I thought perhaps the Geography classroom. The tables there are a bit easier for me to sit at than some of the smaller desks. How does that sound?" Kyminn gestured and Renya preceded him without complaint.

Once in the room, Kyminn again chose his seat with care. Not only was the door left open, he made sure he was in full view of anyone walking by. He also ensured that he was not between the child and any exit.

It was, he admitted to himself, perhaps an overabundance of caution on his part, but he had absolutely no idea why this child was disappearing or how she was faring. It could be as simple as homesickness and a desire for privacy, or it could be something far more sinister. Better to err on the side of caution.

Interestingly, Renya elected to sit at the same table as Kyminn, albeit with a bit of distance between them. He cautiously added this to the positive column.

"I think I should start by telling you that Dean Tannel has told me a little bit about you." Pretending otherwise felt too much like a lie, he'd decided. "He told me you are from a farm in the south and that your family was killed in the war." Kyminn paused and hoped she felt the sincerity in his next words. "Renya, I'm sorry."

A faint nod. "You were there?" There was no need to ask where 'there' was.

"I was. I served with the Guard from the very beginning of the war. That's where I got injured."

"The war is awful. I hate it."

"Me too," it was deep with understanding.

She was silent for several moments and Kyminn didn't press. Finally, she ventured a cautious, "It's different here."

Hoping he'd understood without the need to strain their delicate rapport, Kyminn simply said, "Yes, it is. For the last three years, everywhere I went, everyone I talked to, they talked about the war. Worrying about it, planning for it, fighting it. Then I came back to Haven and hardly anyone talked about it. It's hard."

"I miss my family." The voice of a child trying to sound too grown up, to not cry. "Josha, he's from Lake Evendim and his parents died when their boat sank. He misses them, but he's still got his Nana and his cousins and people. I feel sad for him, but then I get mad because it's not the same and then I feel bad because I'm mad. D'you see?"

"I do. And you're not a bad person for feeling the way you do. It's okay for your sadness and his to be different."

She actually looked relieved at that, as though she'd been given permission to accept her own feelings. She didn't cry though, and Kyminn suspected it would do her a world of good. Instead though, he opted to move the conversation to less fraught ground.

"So tell me, do you like your classes?" He leaned back a bit in his chair, a subtle sign he was not trying to exert pressure.

"I think so. Healer Evin says my handwriting is getting better. It was hard at first to make the letters so small and neat."

Healer Evin hmm? Kyminn knew Evin to be a very able instructor in the use of Gifts. He wondered if introducing Evin as a classroom instructor was the Dean's way of getting Renya comfortable with Evin before beginning training in her Gift. It was, Kyminn decided, too early to ask Renya about her own Gift.

"I know Evin. His hair is rather extraordinary, don't you think?" Evin's distinctive shock of frizzy blonde hair was well known throughout the Collegia.

"Is it even real? It looks like a broom-tree in bloom." For the first time, Renya lost the edge of distant caution which characterized her interactions.

"Very much so. I've even met one of Evin's cousins. The hair runs in the family." His small grin was rewarded with a brief answering smile.

"How about your other classes? Do you like them?"

Her answer came more readily this time. "Mostly. Mathematics is interesting. Everything fits together and there's only one answer."

"You might be surprised about how much math you do as a Healer. And I understand what you mean that it's nice to sometimes be sure about an answer."

The conversation continued in a similar vein, mostly speaking of inconsequentials as he tried to get to know this Trainee. She was still guarded, but everything he learned reinforced Kyminn's impression that she was really quite lonely. During the course of the chat, they moved from 'Healer and Trainee' to 'Kyminn' and 'Renya.'

"Renya, can I ask what you do when you're not in classes?" He almost held his breath, wondering if she would answer.

For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer, but finally, reluctantly, she said, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" He tried to keep the response mild. "You don't visit with some of the other young people or perhaps visit the library?"

She shifted in her seat, a child uncertain if they have done something wrong. "No. When…when I met Dean Tannel, he said he'd arrange for me to spend time with some others, but the next day I got a message that it wasn't going to work out."

The hair stood up on the back of Kyminn's neck and he tried to keep from sitting bolt upright in his chair. "A message? Hmm. Do you have the note still? I should make sure it gets properly filed."

She looked at him, clearly hearing some of the surprise he'd tried to hide. "There was no note. Just an older boy in a blue uniform. He said the Dean had tried to arrange for me to spend afternoons with them but that it wasn't going to work out. He said I was to wait and the Dean would make other arrangements." It was plain she thought she'd done something wrong.

Kyminn forced himself into what he hoped was a natural-seeming smile. "I see. Well, no worry then. You did exactly as you should." Had the child been a bit older, or more connected to her peer group, it might have occurred to her to follow up when the promised further instructions failed to materialize, but Kyminn wasn't going to fault her for that!

"So," he went on as smoothly as he could, "I've talked to the Dean and spending time with the pages and the other youngsters has become a possibility again. How do you feel about trying it?"

A short, rapid, headshake.

"Renya," and he put a touch of 'adult' in his tone, "did the pages or other palace workers tease you, or bother you in any way?"

Her head shot up, startled. "Oh! No, Healer. Not really."

He lightened his tone with an inquiring raised eyebrow. "Not really? I'm not sure what it means if someone is 'not really' bothering you."

"Oh. Well, you see, when I found that I might have been spending time with them, I sort of…watched, to see if they were nice and it was something I might have liked to do."

"And what did you find out?" It was like coaxing a shy bird, talking to this one! Harder probably, he could Speak to birds.

That maddening shrug again. "I don't think it looked like very much fun at all. They spend a lot of time just playing ball games, or pretending they are Guardsmen and bandits. And they talk about people and places that don't seem very interesting."

"I see," and he really did. No surprise this child wanted nothing to do with war games, or childish gossip! "So you do nothing? Just wait for your year-mates?"

A small nod. "Yes. Was that wrong?"

"Not even a tiny little bit." The smile was genuine. "But it can't have been much fun, just sitting around here and waiting. Didn't you want to, oh, explore the gardens or something?"

"I tried it once. A man yelled at me, told me to get back to classes. He was very angry and wouldn't listen, so I stopped doing that. I went to the library too, but all those books were so confusing!" She scuffed her feet on the floor before adding, "It's okay. Sometimes it's easier to be alone. Trying not to be lonely when I'm with the others is tiring."

"That's funny," Kyminn said wryly, "I have the exact opposite problem. I can't bear to be alone. But I know what you mean about being lonely even when you're with others. I feel the same way. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. You," and he poked a finger gently in her direction, "should not spend the remainder of the summer cooped up inside like a penned coney. There is no point in sending you back to the pages, it's clear to me that group isn't a good match for you. So, since _my_ Healers say I should walk for at least a candlemark a day, and since _you_ need to get outside, for the first candlemark of the afternoon, you and I will walk." He stopped, and added gently, "And you won't have to do anything, or even talk if you don't feel like it. You can be with me and be as alone as you like. I'll be with you, so I won't feel alone. Alright?"

"That…might be nice."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Arranging the change to Renya's schedule was straightforward and the Dean readily approved the plan. Of greater concern was Kyminn's report as to the mysterious message the Trainee had received. Both men agreed that sending the false message moved the matter from 'lost correspondence' to 'deliberate interference'. Unfortunately, neither was able to come up with a reason for someone to have meddled. Dean Tannel assured Kyminn that the matter would be brought to the attention of the Heralds. For his part, Kyminn was tasked with trying to uncover more information on the Trainee side.

Whether it was that Renya possessed a small touch of Empathy or simply the inherent resilience of childhood, something about Kyminn's quiet understanding reached through far more quickly than he anticipated. At first, their walks were near-silent affairs, with Renya content to trail beside and listen when he occasionally pointed out an interesting plant or shared an amusing anecdote. Within that first fortnight, small smiles and even the occasional laugh began to emerge. He began to realize he'd been wrong to consider her a serious sort of child. Once he began to peel away the layers of grief and she settled into her new environment, he discovered a thoughtful, dryly funny person underneath.

Not all their conversations were easy. He discovered rather quickly that she had had little opportunity to really grieve and the storm of anger and pain that emerged was long overdue. He'd taken her to a very special garden, a seldom visited and very old corner of the palace grounds.

"One of the gardeners told me this garden dates back almost as far as the founding but very few people know it's here. Usually only the Royal family visit regularly." He caught her startled glance and reassured her, "Don't worry, we're allowed to be here, I checked."

At first glance, this garden seemed to have no form or pattern. There were no private nooks, no beds of scented flowers. Instead, the area seemed deliberately wild, full of common shrubs and simple wildflowers.

"They call this the Founders Garden," Kyminn trailed his hand along the trunk of a towering oak. "Each area represents a different part of Valdemar. This part here, this is from the north, where I grew up. There's even a little mossy clearing with things like turtle-berries and spider moss. I'm not sure how the gardeners did it, but it's perfect."

He led her further into the garden, through parts and regions unfamiliar to them both. Finally, they ascended a short, rocky trail, cresting the outcropping and breaking out onto a small south-facing rise. The little clearing was cleverly angled so that if one stood with their back to the granite, you looked up and past the city and the palace grounds. All one saw was the sere, rocky ground and the sky.

Renya bent down, peering at a small cluster of wildflowers. From her lowered vantage point, the effect of being on an expanse of rocky hills was even more pronounced. It wasn't quite home, but it was enough. This time, she didn't fight the tears and he simply let her weep, arms wrapped about her in silent compassion.

She seemed better afterwards, although she occasionally dropped into bouts of silent, internal introspection. For his part, he simply let her be, although he took to carrying a generous supply of handkerchiefs for the small, sad moments that developed as a result.

For his part, Kyminn discovered that he benefited from her company as much as she seemed to from his. Her company filled his need for _presence_ while placing no great demands on his battered emotions. Knowing he was able to be the 'stable' member of the pair was oddly bolstering to his sense of purpose. A wry part of him acknowledged that being as mentally stable as a traumatized nine-year old set the bar pretty low, but it was as much victory as he'd enjoyed in some time.

They soon solved the problem of what to do with the rest of Renya's time. Kyminn made profligate use of his seal to write various passes for Renya. One such pass gave her access to the Collegium grounds and gardens for certain fixed hours of the afternoon, allowing her to visit at will. She did, however, take Kyminn's cautions to heart about avoiding high-born youth or the unaffiliated students and took pains to remain within sight of an adult at all times. Another pass gained her admission to the wonder that was the library, especially after Kyminn gave her a tour and explained how it was laid out. The final pass was to the Healer's conservatory – the glassed in wing which housed the various healing herbs and plants used in treatment. This last pass was the hardest to obtain, as not only did Kyminn have to vouch for her to the Healer in charge of the conservatory, Renya herself had to demonstrate that she would behave appropriately while she was there. It took several visits, but finally that worthy acquiesced and Renya got her pass.

Gentle questioning by Kyminn revealed that Renya had received very basic schooling in her own Gift, but that serious study of that area would wait until she and the Gift were more mature. That didn't mean she wasn't curious though, and Kyminn was more than happy to demonstrate some of his own Gifts for her. She was delighted when he used his Animal Mindspeech to coax some chickadees to take seeds from her hand. He took pains to point out that he had not used his Gifts to compel, but simply to speak with the birds and reassure them of their safety.

Her response rather surprised him when she said simply, "If you made them, it would be like you making war on them, trying to make them believe what you wanted instead of what they decided. Like the Tedrels want to make Valdemar into Tedrel."

It was, he thought, an extremely mature description of the ethics of Gifts.

"Kyminn," she said abruptly one afternoon as they rested on the banks of the Terilee where it ran through the palace grounds, "Do you think it would be okay if we went and looked at the Companions some time?"

His hand, idly dragging a twig through the water, faltered in its sweep. He temporized. "It's allowed, and I can arrange it if you like. I'm afraid I won't be able to go with you though."

She looked at him in surprise. "Why not? Don't you like Companions?"

"I do, very much so. I've been privileged to have a number of Heralds and Companions that I consider my friends. Unfortunately, I'm not able to spend time with them right now. I'm afraid I'm just not Healed enough for that yet."

Renya considered this. "That must be hard. Not being able to visit your friends. I hope you get better soon."

Given that Kyminn was currently expending considerable energy and guile in actively _avoiding_ his friends, he couldn't help but agree with her. He also knew that Randen was aware that Kyminn was evading and that Randen's patience was not infinite.

"Thank you, I'm working hard on it." He paused and then said casually, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

She blinked. "I'm not sure what you mean. Do you mean about," her voice dropped to a whisper, "women stuff?"

A chuckle. "No, nothing of that sort! Although, if you did have questions of that kind, you could ask me if you liked, or I could find a lady Healer if you want?" He let the sentence trail off into a question.

"Noooo…." A rapid headshake reinforced her answer. "One of the lady Healers explained all that when I got here. She says since I'm only just about to turn ten that I don't have to bother with it for a while yet." She crinkled her nose and added thoughtfully, "It sounds very messy and complicated."

"All my lady friends assure me that this is, in fact, the case." His tone was solemn but his eyes twinkled. "Anyway, the question I wanted to ask you was…just where were you going when you were waiting for your friends to finish classes?"

"Oh, is that all?" Kyminn wanted to strangle her for that blithe response. He'd spent _days_ trying to find this elusive child!

She shrugged. "In the jakes."

He blinked. "But…where in the jakes? Surely not…"

"Eww! No!" It was aghast. "How could you even think that? No, in the attics, over the jakes."

He tried to picture it and he could feel her watching him, waiting to see if he would figure it out. "Wait a minute." He frowned in thought, "There's no access to the attic in that building. I know because I checked."

The grin was impish. "Not for you maybe, but there is for me! On the second floor there's a laundry chute that goes down to the basement, for towels and things. Do you know it?"

He nodded, "I do. I remember noticing that the opening on the girls side and the opening on the boys side have a beam between them so curious youngsters can't sneak between the sides. I also remember noticing that nothing larger than a cat could fit down that chute." His look was a trifle challenging, daring her to contest his recollection.

"Yes, but did you look _up_?" It was innocent. "The space between the walls is pretty wide if you're my size, and the beams are as good as a ladder. It's no trouble at all to climb up and into the attic." She sounded, Kyminn felt, rather pleased with herself.

A slow headshake. "I did not," he admitted, "Look up. I should have, but I didn't." He looked down at her. "You do know, don't you, that I'm going to have to tell the Dean? If we don't block that off, the next thing you know we'll have an attic full of Trainees doing who-knows-what mischief."

"Do you have to tell him I was the one?" Clearly, the idea of having the Dean aware of her unauthorized explorations was a worrying prospect.

He laughed, "I think I can safely keep your name out of it. In a day or so, I'll have a look and 'discover' your hidey hole. Deal?"

"Thank you!" It was relieved.

 _SCENE BREAK_

If things with Renya were going well, it was perhaps the only thing that was positive. Word from the war trickled in, leaving people with grim, closed faces. The campaign season was coming to a close and those with any knowledge of the conflict were faced with the growing, dark conclusion that the next year would decide the matter – one way or another. Embassies for Rethwellen and other neighbours saw a steady trickle of immigration inquires as people began to plan for the worst.

As for his sessions with his own Healers, there was still little progress. Aside from the inadvertent discovery that his Gifts were somehow involved, they had learned nothing new. Experimentation showed that _all_ his Gifts were affected, with one notable exception. Foresight, of course, continued to work by its own inexplicable rules and do whatever it wanted.

Careful inquiries into the mysterious 'older boy in blue' turned up nothing. From Renya's description, the messenger had most likely been one of the hall-boys or under-footmen. Renya's recollection included silver trim on the uniform, which argued for livery, rather than the unadorned blue of the unaffiliated students. That was somewhat reassuring, since it seemed unlikely she'd somehow fallen afoul of that particular group. On the other hand, it suggested someone at the palace was involved, which invited a whole new group of suspects. Unfortunately, it also eliminated nearly every possible motive. Renya had no connections whatsoever to anyone at court and aside from the messenger, had never even spoken to anyone from the palace.

Troubled by this latest finding, Kyminn sent a brief note to the Dean, asking for a meeting. The Dean's response was an invitation to a working dinner in the Dean's rooms.

When he had arrived at the Collegium several years before, the notion that he'd be someday sitting down to dinner with the Dean of Healers, in the Dean's private quarters, would have been laughable. Since those days, Kyminn had eaten with everyone from bandits to barons. More than a few things had changed, Kyminn chiefest amongst them.

"I've been speaking to Crathach," the Dean mentioned casually as they poked around at the last few morsels of dessert. "He says you're working hard, but that progress has been slow."

Kyminn kept his attention on spearing a particularly elusive blackberry as he replied. "It's been frustrating. Crathach and the others have been doing their best and I'm not complaining." He paused and added, "But I'd be lying if I said I was happy with how things are going."

"Are you managing in the mean time?" The question was sincere.

A shrug. "I admit that some days are better than others, but I think I've figured it out enough to get by. It's mostly a question of managing my environment." And, he didn't add, making sure the environment most certainly did not include Heralds or Companions. All it would take would be a single injured Companion and his charade of wellness would be smashed apart.

"And your Gifts?" The question wasn't a surprise, even if it were unwelcome.

"We don't know how they fit into it. Any long term solution has to include them." Kyminn met the Dean's gaze squarely. "Losing them is not an option."

"It never was." Tannel's response was quick and definite. "Permanently blocking a Gift is a very rare, very extreme occurrence, and something we _never_ take lightly. Doing so requires approval from all three Circles and sometimes the Crown. There are only two times that it is ever considered justified and neither applies to you." The Dean leaned forward, his demeanor emphatic.

"The first instance is the one you most often hear about – misuse. Even then, it's always a last resort. We have to be absolutely certain that the person _knowingly_ and _willingly_ misused their Gift. The Chronicles are full of cases of Gifted who were unaware of their Gifts and misused them by accident. One of the most recent was a merchant whose son didn't realize he possessed the Bardic Gift. The lad hadn't really had an opportunity to take up any instruments, so they didn't know he was musical. What they _did_ notice was that he had an extraordinary degree of success at sales. They put it down to his personality and technique. Eventually though, someone who found themselves having purchased several times more goods than she'd intended to launched a fraud complaint. The investigation revealed the lad's Gift."

"So what happened?" It was curious.

"The merchant refunded the complainant's money. Since it was impossible to figure out how many customers had been affected, and to prevent a flood of malicious claims, the courts calculated a percentage of sales for every time the boy had been working for the past year. That money went to an improvement project in their neighborhood. The boy enrolled in Bardic and hasn't done anything of a similar nature since.

"Only when someone is aware of their Gift and knowingly misuses it do we act. Actually, cases where the person was unaware of what was going on are extremely common. Almost always, once they have received proper instruction, there are no further problems."

Kyminn was thoughtful. "And what about the other instance that you mentioned?"

The Dean's tone grew quiet and a touch somber. "When the person requests it."

Kyminn blinked in surprise. "How does that happen?"

A tilt of the head and the question was quiet. "I'm surprised you don't see it. Take, for example, a person with Mindspeech who has no place in their life for it. What if you're a roofer, spending your life under shields, worried that you'll somehow slip up and hear your neighbour's thoughts? Is it really worth a lifetime of work and vigilance for something you never dare use? How many know themselves well enough to say they can withstand that sort of temptation?"

Kyminn digested this in silence for a time. "How often does that happen?"

Tannel relaxed a bit and gave a small shrug. "To be fair, it's not very common. Gifts are, after all, quite rare. I'd be shocked if I encountered it even a half dozen times in my lifetime."

"So in my case then…" it was cautious.

"In your case, it's not even a consideration. 'There is no one true way', Kyminn. If you decide to live with a different quality of life as a result of this, that's your decision. Just as we wouldn't force treatment for alcoholism, or force a patient to undergo unwanted surgery, we're not going to force anything on you."

"But what if it affects how I treat patients? What happens if I can't go treat someone because it would mean I'd have to travel alone?" It wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but it would have to do.

"So? Kyminn, we don't ask people to do things they cannot. If we never find an answer, yes, it means that you might find yourself a different kind of Healer. Or even not working as a formal Healer at all." He shook his head to still Kyminn's outburst and went on. "We wouldn't withdraw your Greens – you'd have to be convicted of an abuse of your Healer's ethics for that to happen. The Heralds don't ask Trainee Myste to learn weapons-work, we wouldn't ask you to anything that exceeded your capabilities – regardless of where those limits come from. Kyminn, you were injured in the line of duty, and NOTHING about this will ever justify taking your Gifts." The words landed like a judge's gavel, a curiously unprepossessing sort of parole.

Kyminn mustered up a small, heartfelt smile of thanks and the Dean seemed content to let him mull over the implications.

"Now then," Tannel said briskly, pouring them each a glass of a deep red wine, "Tell me about Renya."

More than happy to change the subject, Kyminn's smile was much broader. "She's doing well. Better than I expected, actually. There's a lot more to her than meets the eye."

"How's she coping with the loss of her family?" Tannel savoured the fruity vintage.

The wave was non-committal. "As well as one would expect. Long term…" Kyminn paused and gave the matter some thought. "Long term," he added slowly, "I think this is something that will shape her, but not end up defining her, if that makes sense?"

A nod. "I believe it does. Her instructors say she's about where one would expect, all things considered. One advantage of the situation is that she has time to get a solid grounding in the basics before the harder work begins. They also," a nod of approval at Kyminn, "tell me they've seen a positive change in her demeanor over the last little while. Well done, Kyminn."

"I just…tried to figure out what I might be feeling in her place. It seemed logical." Kyminn busied himself with the wine glass, unsure of how to respond to the compliment.

"By the way," there was a distinct twinkle in the Dean's eye. "I hear you found a mouse-hole in the attic of the classroom wing. I believe it was in the second floor jakes?" The Dean took a sip of the wine to hide the impish smile.

"Hmm. Yes. Quite extraordinary really. Can't imagine how I missed it on the first search. Clumsy of me, I suppose." Kyminn gave a cough of laughter. "I take it the matter is being attended to? I imagine you don't want an infestation running about the attics up there."

"Indeed. I'm told the head carpenter had some choice words at having to work in such a tight spot. Apparently it's really only suitable for very tiny…mice. Which reminds me – if I were a little mouse on the smallish side, I might want to avoid the head carpenter for a while. I hear he had to see a Healer for all the scrapes and splinters from working on that little hole."

Kyminn choked on his wine, probably as the Dean had intended. After he finished sputtering, he managed to say, with only a small grin, "If I see any mice, I'll be sure to pass along the message."

As their shared laughter trailed off, the Dean sighed. "It's good to laugh. Gods know there hasn't been a lot of that around here of late. And speaking of not-funny things…have you made any progress on finding out what happened to Renya's schedule?"

Kyminn grimaced as he shook his head. "None whatsoever. The 'older boy in blue' was a dead end, as I'm sure it was intended to be. There would have been dozens of people in livery at that time, and that's assuming it wasn't 'borrowed' for the occasion."

Tannel raised an eyebrow. "You think someone would go so far as steal livery just to meddle with one Healer Trainee?"

"I don't know what to think. I can't fathom why anyone would have interfered in the first place. Without a motive, I can't really rule out a method." A short, sharp, hand wave of frustration accompanied the words. "I keep coming back to that question of 'why?' Who benefits from a Healer Trainee who is isolated from their peer group? Is it to cultivate her? Make her leave the Collegium? I just don't know, and that troubles me."

"As it should, and as it does me. I've done some checking, and the best I've been able to come up with are two possible cases of students who should have been here but aren't. One was a Healer, about two years ago. She was from here in Haven and her family was very supportive. The night before she was to leave, there was a fire in their apartment building and eight people died, including the Trainee and her family. It was ruled an accident, but now I'm starting to wonder.

"The other was from outside town, a very impoverished family. The local temple was making arrangements to have the boy brought in for training when the family disappeared. Neighbours said that a distant relative on the far side of the kingdom had died and left them an estate. The family packed up overnight and left, presumably to enjoy their new station in life."

"What about the child?" Kyminn chewed his lip in concern.

"We're not sure. According to the neighbours, the family planned to have the boy trained at the closest Healing temple. Perfectly allowable, of course, just…odd."

"It seems rather improbable," Kyminn offered.

"If by that you mean 'convenient', I agree. We did check, and there _were_ some properties that changed hands about that time – odd bequests to distant relations and such. So it's possible. Unlikely, I grant you, but not impossible. Until this matter with Renya came up, I really didn't think of it."

"And now?"

It was the Dean's turn to grimace. "I'm not sure. I'm starting to think someone simply bought the family off and shipped them away. Why someone would do so, I'm not sure. But I'm certainly starting to wonder."

Kyminn shook his head. "I hate to jump at shadows and start seeing conspiracies where maybe it's just coincidence, but…"

"Once is accident, twice is happenstance and three times is enemy action?" the Dean offered.

"Question is, who's the enemy?"


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

The question raised had a corollary: who was the intended victim? Was Renya the sole victim? The Dean's findings, although circumstantial, suggested there was at least a possibility that there were others. If they were able to determine the extent of the problem, that might lead them to motive and perpetrator.

He talked it over with the Dean. It had occurred to both of them that Healers might not be the only ones affected. It was possible this was something directed at all the Gifted. The Dean brought the matter to his counterparts with the Bards and Heralds and the groups agreed to each pursue their own lines of inquiry. Each of them possessed resources the other lacked and it was hoped a multi-fronted inquiry might produce more results. Kyminn then, was free to concentrate on Healers.

With no real starting point, he opted for a brute force approach. Using information drawn from the Hall's records, he began writing to every temple, Healing center, post, or village where a Healer might be assigned by the Circle. He stopped short of writing every Healer on the roster, the task he'd outlined for himself already included over 200 letters. Besides, he was most interested in places where a newly identified Healer might turn up and later be sent on for further training.

His inquiries were brief: would the post/temple/center please provide a list of candidates who had appeared within the last ten years. Further, any information as to where the new Healer went afterwards should also be included. Each letter included a line that the inquiry was being conducted at the request of the Circle, although it was implied that the intent was to garner a complete record of the Circle's resources. It was a reasonable request in light of the ongoing conflict, and the addition of the Dean's sigil to the letters lent additional weight.

He fully expected that in many cases, especially for the more remote stations, the response would be that the individual stayed and was trained by the senior Healer on site. In those cases, the Collegium would (eventually) receive an attestation that the person was fully trained. The new Healer's name would then be added to the rolls. Kyminn himself had been trained that way; his training overseen by his mother and grandmother, with both adding their seals to the attestation. Kyminn's final confirmation at the Collegium was more in the way of a formality rather than due to any real questions regarding his qualifications.

Kyminn was much more interested in those who had gone elsewhere for training – and what had happened to them. If they left a smaller town for a larger temple, had they actually arrived? If not, where were they now?

It was a daunting task, but one that Kyminn threw himself into with abandon. His sessions with Crathach and the team had grown less frequent as they discarded one theory after another. They were beginning to reach the limits of their research and were finding few new avenues to explore. His time with Renya was only a candlemark or two per day and his convalescent status meant he had no other duties.

He hadn't been completely idle of course. He'd attended the stables a time or two to assist with some of the more urgent cases, usually involving valuable animals returning from the war. Those cases often involved as much mental rehabilitation as it did physical and he found it darkly ironic that he was able to do for horses what he was unable to do for himself.

What he particularly liked about helping in the stables as well as his research campaign was that it gave him completely plausible reasons to be away from Healer's in general, and his rooms particular. It made him much more difficult for Randen to find.

Randen's invitations to get together to catch up had long since gone from casual through puzzled and had become downright terse before they stopped altogether. The invitations had been replaced by messages passed by fellow Healers, various Trainees and even a few pages. They all said the same thing: 'Herald Randen is looking for you.'

Kyminn had taken to staying away from his rooms during the day. More than once he'd caught Randen 'stopping by' and managed to avoid notice. It wouldn't last forever of course, but it didn't have to; just until Kyminn recovered.

Kyminn even found a place to do his letter writing which took him well away from any of his expected haunts: Bardic. Kyminn had considered, and as quickly discarded, using one of the desks in the library for his project. Equally unsuitable were his room or any room at Healer's.

A few quiet inquires, however, led him to a corner of the Bardic wing. Bard Trainees, it seemed, spent a good deal of time copying, transposing, and arranging musical scores. This meant that they needed quite a bit of space to sit and write. The fact that it was on the first floor, while the study rooms at Healer's were on the second, provided an obvious reason as to why a crippled Healer might prefer to borrow a corner from time to time. The Bardic Trainees quickly got used to the quiet, polite, limping Healer who tucked himself away at one of the desks to work on his correspondence. After the first few times that he thanked them for 'not making me go up all those stairs', his presence became taken for granted.

 _SCENE BREAK_

It had been a good day. Kyminn had only 50 or so letters remaining and Renya had lately begun talking about the friends she was making amongst the other Trainees. Nothing worse had happened with respect to his mental health, so he was willing to call it a draw on that front. He even had a perfectly legitimate excuse for staying away from his room today. One of the stables had complained of a particularly virulent infection of thrush amongst residents and Kyminn had happily made time to help.

As it happened, it was indeed a rather nasty infection, but fortunately it was confined to a handful of animals. Still, just to be diligent, Kyminn made sure to give every beast a thorough going-over. If it took quite a long time, well, that was just something he'd have to live with, right?

Thus it was that he was quite pleased with himself as he made his way back. Not only was it well past midnight, he'd recently heard that Randen had been seen leaving on some duty or other. Kyminn was confident he'd have at least a few days of peace.

He slipped into his room, mindful of disturbing the slumbering Trainees. As he latched the door behind himself, he blinked as the lamp flared into brightness, just bright enough to add shape to the shadows.

"Hello, Kyminn." Randen's voice was flat.

Kyminn froze, caught between trying to convince Randen to leave or simply fleeing outright. The hesitation was his undoing. For a man with one leg, Randen could move astonishingly quickly and a crutch flipped up across the doorframe, neatly pinning Kyminn within the windowless room.

"My friend, I think we need to talk." Gentle, but implacable.

"No, Randen, we really don't." Kyminn tried to sound firm, but even to his ears his voice sounded thin and strained.

"I considered…consider…you a friend. And I really want to know what's changed. Why you've been avoiding me. Us. Derris wants to know too, you know." There was real concern, as well as hurt, in the statement.

Derris. Kyminn's stomach lurched. Being in the same room as Randen was already causing panic to bubble up within Kyminn's breast. At the mention of Derris, the bubble turned into a flood and Kyminn broke into a cold sweat.

"Randen…it's just not a good time. I…can't do this. I'm sorry." One hand fumbled for the door latch.

Randen leaned forward, a looming white shape in the dimness. "Are you really going to pick a fight? Wrestle me for the door? I rather think that would cause a few questions, don't you? Somehow, I get the idea that attention the LAST thing you want. Tell me I'm wrong."

It was becoming harder to speak, to form coherent thoughts. Blackness, split by splinters of blue and white, danced across Kyminn's vision. He clamped his mouth shut around the moan of fear.

"Kyminn, if you make a run for it, just how far do you think you'll get? By the time you get to any door or window you can reach, Derris will be there waiting." Randen faltered as he took in the sickly pale face, the sweating and trembling Healer before him.

"Good gods, Kyminn, what the seven hells is wrong? Are you alright?" He reached out to steady his friend, tried to mask the hurt he felt when Kyminn flinched from his touch. "Kyminn, we need to get you some help!"

A convulsive headshake was the only response. Kyminn's breathing was raspy and rapid as his self-control crumbled. "No. Please!"

"I…" Randen paused, he expression distant for a moment. The Herald returned to the present with a snap of focus. "Move." A flip of the crutch staggered Kyminn enough that Randen could shove him away from the door.

The door swung open and Randen shoved again. This time, pushing Kyminn _through_ the doorway.

And straight into Derris.

It was as though Kyminn had touched white hot metal, so quickly did he recoil back into Randen's body. Derris simply dropped to the floor, his white bulk making the hallway seem small.

 _:Get him up. You'll have to hold him.:_

Randen didn't argue. He levered the frozen Healer onto Derris's back, wondering if they were going to have to tie Kyminn on like a package. He needn't have worried. Kyminn's collapse was so sudden that the Healer nearly slid off Derris's far side. Only the Companion's quick shift prevented the Healer from cracking his head on the stone floor.

As soon as Randen was seated, one hand bracing the limp Healer, Derris rose, backing smoothly out of the same door he'd entered. _:I'm glad his room is on the first floor. Getting him down the stairs would have been a problem.:_ It was a feeble attempt at levity, and Randen could feel his bond-mate's deep concern beneath the words.

As Derris emerged from the hallway, he pivoted and took off at a canter.

 _:Derris? I thought we were taking him to Healers! Where are we going?:_

 _:The Field.:_ The response was clipped, focused.

Randen thought of a dozen questions he wanted to ask, but simply concentrated on keeping the now-shuddering Healer from falling.

There are very few sacred spaces in Valdemar. The premise of 'There is no one, true Way' meant that temples, shrines and holy places abounded. These places were, for the most part, respected by all who encountered them, but only their adherents truly described them as 'sacred'. Even the Royal chapel held no particular primacy, being simply the place the Royals chose to worship.

Still, there were one or two places that were held in near-universal reverence. One of these was the ruined tower that housed the Death Bell, the clapper-less ancient bell that sounded – by means no one understood – whenever a Herald died.

The other place, of course, was the Grove, where, according to legend, the first Companions had appeared. At first, Randen thought this might be their destination, and he felt his astonishment grow at the thought. At the last moment though, Derris turned aside, wending through the trees and descending into a small dell. Randen felt his eyebrows climb nearly into his hairline as he saw the steady stream of white figures flowing in from all directions. There were, at a guess, several dozen Companions present.

The crowd parted to make way for Derris, blending shut behind them to form a protective circle. Derris drew up in the center, before the single Companion waiting there. Derris folded himself down and twisted his head back to regard his Chosen.

 _:He can get off now. He'll be alright.:_

Randen tugged Kyminn onto the grass. The Healer simply curled up, weeping silently.

 _:Is that Taver?:_ Randen asked silently, of the dimly seen lone Companion.

 _:Yes. He can help Kyminn.:_ Derris seemed oddly certain.

 _:How? I mean, why…:_

 _:Do you trust me?:_ Derris's blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness.

 _:With my heart. With my soul. With my very breath.:_ It was automatic, unthinking.

 _:Then trust us now.:_ There was an uncharacteristic echo of authority in Derris's mind-voice.

Taver reached down and gently touched Kyminn's shoulder. _:Kyminn:_

Part of Kyminn wanted to flee from the unknown voice in his mind. Part of him wanted to embrace the promise it offered. He was suspended, caught between one heartbeat and the next, with – and yet apart from – his pain and fear. He whimpered and withdrew further into himself.

Inward eyes opened. He recognized Companion's Field, but they were in a part which was unfamiliar. White shapes surrounded him, most too bright to look at, to focus on. When he tried to fix on any one form, it seemed to flicker between man, woman, Companion: a spirit that embodied all _being._

Kyminn turned his attention to the figure before him. This one seemed a contradiction, both brighter than the others and yet easier to see. Unlike the others, this one held only a single, Companion form. "Who are you?" If you'd asked him later, he couldn't have said whether he'd spoken the question aloud, within his mind, or by some other means altogether.

 _:Taver. Companion to the King's Own, Herald Talamir.:_ The voice was mellow and rich, like aged wood and honey.

"I thought Companions spoke only to their Chosen." He felt foolish even as he said it.

There was dry amusement in the response. _:We both know that's not strictly correct. However, yes, as a general rule we do not.:_

Kyminn looked around 'here', wherever it was. "Where am I? Where are we?"

 _:Somewhere else. It was a place you needed to be, so we brought you._ : There was more in that response than the usual vague Companion cryptic-ness. There was a very polite, very firm, 'don't ask' in it as well.

Kyminn hesitated, aware for the first time of a lack of sensation. "Am I…dead? Or dying?"

A peal of gentle laughter. _:No, Kyminn, you're not dead.:_ The tone changed to one of unspeakable sorrow. _:You know what it feels like to die. Ask yourself if that's what this is.:_

"No, not death. What then? Why am I here?" 'Here' was profoundly peaceful, but Kyminn was equally sure it was neither the Havens nor a place he was meant to remain.

Regret and apology rolled off Taver, flowed over Kyminn. _:You're here because we harmed you and we owe you the healing of that harm.:_

The fear tried to overwhelm him again, but _something_ shunted it aside, seen, but unfelt. "Zayle and Rosen." It wasn't a question.

Taver nodded. _:Yes.:_ It was heavy with sorrow. _:When Rosen died, you were linked to Zayle. What you felt was a half-heard echo of a reflection of an unremembered dream; the merest glimmer of what we feel when we lose our Chosen:_

"Oh." Kyminn wanted to weep.

A heavy sigh. _:And so. When Zayle followed her Chosen, part of you followed them both. That is the sense of_ alone _you are experiencing, why you still feel lonely and disconnected from others. That smallest part of you is disconnected, gone with Zayle:_

Understanding, and relief, blossomed. "And why it hurts so much to be around Heralds and their Chosen."

 _:Yes. In many ways, their presence is a constant reminder of the broken bond, a knife in the wound. Small wonder you feared to experience that again.:_

"And my Gifts?"

 _:Your Gifts were part of what happened, yes. Also, it is the presence of Gifts, the opening of that part of_ self _which is fundamental to the Herald-Companion bond. In blocking your Gifts, they blocked your ability to experience the part of you that is damaged. It did not repair the damage and, in time, that damaged part would have grown, would have done you great harm.:_

Kyminn glanced around at the flickering, patient forms. "Why are you helping me? Why now?"

A white foot stamped the ground in vague irritation, but at what, Kyminn couldn't say. _:We spoke for you when you were first injured, when the Healer wanted to block your Gifts and block your memories. At the time, we thought it would be enough to let you heal. Kyminn…:_

Taver's voice was profoundly apologetic, _:We did not know that it had not been successful:_ The King's Own's Companion seemed genuinely distressed at the admission. _:Until Derris started to speak about your avoiding him and his Chosen, we were unaware of the problem. It wasn't until tonight that we understood. Kyminn, we're sorry.:_

"I'm not sure why you're apologizing." The not-real Kyminn gave a half shrug. "I didn't tell anyone."

Taver seemed oddly uncomfortable and shifted his weight, scuffling his hooves in the spring grass. (Spring? It was late summer, Kyminn's mind insisted.)

 _:We knew about the injury. We can feel you, after all. We just never realized what it was until now.:_

"Feel me?"

 _:Zayle and Rosen. You're still part of them. It was right there when we looked for it.:_

There was a sudden bloom of white light, directionless, eye-searing and yet painless. As it faded to darkness, Kyminn began to see forms emerge, bright jewels against the night. A delicate tracery of light connected them all and he gasped at the beauty of it. It stretched from the _now_ into the past, reached into the future. He knew without being told that each of those lights had a name.

 _Something_ drew his attention and he focused in one light, zooming like a spyglass across the gulf between them. Like the others, this one flickered between a white horse's body and that of a two legged form, this time that of a young woman.

"Zayle," he breathed. A part of him _reached_ for her and he felt their minds link, felt the peace and happiness flow between them. Wherever she was, she was happy.

The web spun, centered again and another form bloomed. He didn't have to ask who this one was, he could feel Rosen's joy and delight like warm sunlight on his skin.

"They're so happy!" It was thick with awe.

 _:They are. This is part of who we are. Of the choice we make:_

Kyminn pondered that. Understood, dimly the love and sacrifice that was a Companion. "I'm not going to remember this, am I?" It was wistful.

A gentle headshake. _:No. You will remember that Randen and Derris brought you here. A part of you will know – but not remember – that Zayle and Rosen are at peace. Most importantly, you will leave here with that which you have lost restored to you.:_

Something within Kyminn _shifted_ , settled into place. It was undefinable, and yet it was though a bleeding wound had closed over. The bands of fear around his spirit snapped, faded until even their memory was gone.

Taver nuzzled Kyminn again. _:You will recover now. In a few days, this will be a memory of adversity, but will no longer cause you pain and distress.:_

Kyminn closed his not-eyes in release. Snapped them open again. "What about Renya? What about her suffering?"

Taver shook his head, mind-voice compassionate, but firm. _:Renya's pain is a more honest injury,_ _I'm afraid. If a tragedy can reduced to the word 'simple', that is what caused her pain: simple, brutal tragedy. The only healing for her is time and compassion. You have given her both of those in abundance. Stay the course and you'll both do well.:_

The _presence_ faded, as did the image in his mind. Kyminn smelled end-of summer grass and good clean earth, felt his wet cheeks and someone's cloak draped about his body. He took a deep, tentative breath, the kind one does when testing to see if something will hurt.

There, was, for the first time in a very long time, no pain.


	46. Chapter 46

_A/N I apologize for not keeping to my schedule of 'once a week' updates. It's still something I am aiming for, but a 'every two weeks' is more probable._

 _I've discovered it's much easier to write when life actually gives me waking hours in front of a computer. Who knew?_

Chapter 46

"Kyminn?" the question was tentative, but the hands that helped him sit up were strong and sure.

"Kyminn?" This time, Randen's voice held an edge of worry.

Kyminn nodded and tried to speak. Coughed when he found his throat still raw from weeping. Tried again.

"I'm alright." He scrubbed the tears from his cheeks, aware that he was probably creating a filthy mess, but not caring. He could see white forms, silently fading into the woods like mist. In front of him stood a lone Companion, someone unfamiliar to him. There was an unfathomable expression of cryptic sympathy in the stallion's face. The stranger gave a brief, satisfied nod and turned, disappearing into the trees without a backwards glance.

Randen shuffled himself around so that he was facing Kyminn. "Are you?"

The smile was wan, but honest for all that. "I am." Another deep breath. "I haven't been, not for a while, but I am now."

"Glad to hear it." The rough growl failed to hide the relief in the Herald's voice. "Now, suppose you tell me what happened?"

Kyminn hesitated, trying to piece together the jumbled impressions. When Randen started to frown, Kyminn quickly shook his head. "I'm not trying to hide anything. Not anymore." That was apologetic. "It's just that I'm not quite sure what just happened."

Haltingly, with pauses to piece together the damning report, Kyminn told his friend everything. Of his need for Mindhealing following the deaths of Zayle and Rosen. _"I'd heard a Healer was involved, but I didn't know it was you."_ He went on to speak of the failed treatments, the crippling anxiety, the agony he felt when in the presence of a Herald. _"Gods, Kyminn! I didn't know!"_

Finally, Kyminn wound down. "And then I was here. I assume you and Derris brought me?" Randen nodded. Kyminn gave a vague wave at the now empty clearing. "Who was that? I thought he looked familiar, but I can't place him."

"That," Randen's tone was dry, "was Taver, Talamir's Chosen. Companions have no particular hierarchy, but Taver is the undisputed leader."

"Oh," was the subdued observation. "I wonder why he was here?"

"Derris says Taver helped you. Apparently, the Companions stepped in when you were first injured, mostly because a Companion was involved. They only intervened again when you weren't recovering on your own." Randen eyed his Healer friend. "You really don't remember any of it?"

A slow shake of his head and a sigh. "Not really. I remember you coming to my room and then just a lot of pain. Then things pretty much just…stopped hurting." Kyminn grimaced and added a qualifier. "Mostly. I still feel a little bruised, but it's fading." He paused and sifted through his memories again. "Did Derris really come into the Healer's Hall?"

A faint grin in the darkness. "He did. He says he's very glad you live on the first floor. He's not especially fond of stairs and neither of us was keen on explaining the scuff marks to the Housekeeper."

"Glad I could help," Kyminn muttered dryly. He glanced at upwards through the trees, trying to get a glimpse of the sky. "What time is it?"

"Derris says it's about three candlemarks before dawn. We've been out here the better part of the night."

Kyminn grunted and hauled himself to his feet. He peered around in the darkness, blinking. "I don't suppose you brought my cane, did you?"

"No. Nor my crutches." Randen gave a snort at the oversight. Grasping Kyminn's proffered arm, the Herald let his friend haul him upright.

Kyminn's tone was dry as he regarded the Herald. "Aren't we just a fine pair? Two left legs and half of a right between us. A real bargain, that's us!"

Randen pealed laughter. "Derris says he'll be the brains. He's got the most legs."

Randen was still laughing when the Companion knelt down for his Herald to climb on. "Come on Kyminn, Derris says it's too far to walk and the Companions don't want to get blamed when you get lost."

"You do know that I could always rebreak his leg, right?" Kyminn muttered.

The shadowed trees echoed with the sound of laughter.

 _Epilogue_

 _Dean Tannel stared into the ruby depths of his wine glass for a long moment. Finally, without looking up, he said quietly "You're sure?"_

 _Kyminn looked over at Randen and the Herald nodded. "On what count, sir?" Kyminn was unusually formal, given the intimate setting. His abrupt breakthrough a sennight ago and subsequent recovery still had the Mindhealers scratching their heads, but it was Kyminn's urgent request for a confidential meeting which had prompted the Dean to invite Healer and Herald to the Dean's private quarters._

 _"_ _About my recovery or the report?" At the Dean's inclusive gesture, Kyminn shook his head soberly. "I am fully recovered sir, and Healer Crathach agrees. It seems that coming into close contact with Derris like that pushed me past whatever had been blocking my healing."_

 _That was, in fact, the events as he and Randen remembered them. Following Kyminn's collapse, Derris and Randen had brought him to the Field in an effort to calm him down. Once Kyminn worked through the shock of the encounter, all had been gratified to realize apparently the magnitude of the jolt had broken the logjam, allowing Kyminn to overcome his fear of Companions. After that, recovery had been rapid._

 _Kyminn was still speaking. "As to the report, yes sir, I believe it's accurate. It's early days yet – I've only gotten a handful of responses and those from the closest Temples. Still, there are an additional two potential Healers unaccounted for. One was from about seven years ago, the other two years past. Also…" Kyminn looked at Randen._

 _"_ _There's also another…possible…missing Trainee." Randen sounded as though he was very reluctant to even consider the idea. "One of the temples noted there was a local student that the Priest suspected may be Gifted. The Priest wasn't sure, but he thought the lad showed signs of emerging Mindspeech. The Priest was keeping an eye on things and was going to arrange for the boy to come to Haven if it turned out he did, in fact, develop Gifts." Randen paused._

 _"_ _And?" The Dean finally prodded._

 _"_ _The Priest never wrote the letter to send the boy. The lad died. Drowned. Seems the local children liked to sneak out for a moonlight swim. One night the boy went out on his own and didn't come back."_

 _"_ _But you have doubts it was an accident?" Tannel's voice was bleak._

 _"_ _I…don't know. In the same monthly ledger that reports the lad's death, the Priest wrote that people reported seeing a riderless Companion in the area." Randen's admission was reluctant._

 _"_ _On Search?" Tannel froze, aghast as he considered the horrifying implication._

 _"_ _It could be a coincidence," Randen was quick to point out the possibility. "The Temple's not too terribly far from here and that area has lots of little villages. A Companion on Search could well have been passing through at that time. And it's still not known if the boy was actually Gifted. Or had the potential of being Chosen. Or even if he met with mischief instead of mischance."_

 _"_ _Coincidences. Possibilities. It's like battling smoke!" Tannel slapped the table in an uncharacteristic display of frustration._

 _"_ _What do we do now?" Kyminn spread his hands, palm up, in a gesture of uncertainty._

 _Tannel took a deep breath. "As hard is its going to be for you to hear this, the answer is – we do nothing." He held up a hand to forestall their shocked protests._

 _"_ _The summer campaign is drawing to a close. Significant numbers of the most serious, long-term patients have already begun the trip back to Haven. They are going to require a very great deal of our time and resources._

 _"_ _In addition – and this stays in this room – the King has decided that the next year will be, must be, decisive. Win or lose, next year will tell. Much of the coming months will be spent accumulating every last piece of material possible and training as many troops as possible. Kyminn, word of your recovery has already made the rounds and you're needed in about ten different places. You'll be glad to know that I whittled them down to three." It was dry._

 _"_ _Three, sir?" Kyminn was wondering what he was going to be doing if it involved being at three places at once._

 _"_ _First," the Dean ticked off a finger, "You are going to be spending three days out of seven at the Guard post just east of the city. Part of the Home Farm has been set aside for Guard use. It won't surprise you to learn that you'll be training horses."_

 _A nod, "Yes sir."_

 _"_ _Second," another finger. "Two days out of seven you will be at the faire grounds just outside the city. The pens there will be used to house animals injured in the fighting. Any beast that can survive the trip back here has a hope of being rehabilitated for return to service." The Dean grimaced. "Believe me Kyminn, I realize how this must seem, given what you've just been through. You were at least as bad off as some of these beasts will be and now we're asking you to help send them back there."_

 _A wan smile. "I understand sir. I expect I'll be back there next year too and I'm alright with that. It's not anything any of us has a choice in. Me helping the beasts being able to accept things is a kindness to them."_

 _A small nod of thanks. "Third," the last finger bent. "The remaining two days will be spent here at the Collegium. You will be helping teach some of the older students as well as continuing your role as a mentor to the younger. You've done very well with Renya and the reports I got back on your mentorship of Avi speak highly of you."_

 _Kyminn groaned inwardly. He foresaw a lot of cold days in the saddle, moving from task to task. "Yes sir," was all he said though._

 _"_ _What about the missing Gifted?" Randen was troubled. "Are we just going to drop the matter?"_

 _"_ _No. As responses to Kyminn's inquiries come in, he will continue compile them and analyze them. New information will suggest either answers, or give us new lines of inquiry. The investigation will, however, be very much a secondary matter."_

 _"_ _I can't say I like the idea," Randen admitted. "Someone is killing Gifted and we're just…waiting. It feels wrong." He looked up at the Dean. "But I understand. If the Tedrels win, then the question of missing Gifted won't matter in the slightest. We'll all be too busy fighting for our lives to worry about it."_

 _"_ _I guess we'd better win then."_

Kyminn's story will continue in "Kyminn's Way".


End file.
